


A Tale of Three Brothers

by BlueRaven666



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Brothers, Death, Gore, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Murder, Out of Character, Past Lives, Physical Abuse, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRaven666/pseuds/BlueRaven666
Summary: How tragic was your past? A reaper and two demons were brothers once, but one was singled out to face his family's abuse simply for the color of his eyes. These are the demons that Claude Faustus died with, and the ones that he must now face.





	1. Prologue

Tell me . . . How tragic was your past?

Perhaps your father was a drunk. Or maybe your mother was more preoccupied with another one of your siblings to pay any mind to you. Perhaps you were hated; not just by other people, but by your own family, as well.

I'll tell you now that no one's tale is as sad as the one that I'm about to tell you. It may have happened centuries ago, but the memories are as fresh as if they'd happened only yesterday.

This is the story of my two brothers and me. Before we faced our first deaths, and before our rivalry tore us apart, all we had was each other. But I suppose, even back then, we never really got along.

I have gone by many names since becoming a demon, though the name given to me by my previous master has now been permanently etched into my being. It is a mark of my existence and my betrayal. It's been branded on me, and that's something I'll never be cleared of.

My name is Claude Faustus. Perhaps you've heard of me, but this story isn't so much about me as it is about my one of my brothers; a certain raven demon. But this isn't how things always were. Oh, no.

We used to be just like everyone else living in the human realm. We were ordinary humans with a very . . . dysfunctional family life, but I never realized it until it was too late. The damage had already been done, and I now know that nothing I do will ever be payment enough for those that I have hurt.

But as I said, this story isn't about me. It's about my younger brother, who bears a brand as permanent as my own. Freak, monster, outcast, demon; these things, with pain, sadness, despair, and anger, have manifested themselves into the demon that goes by the name Sebastian Michaelis.

So I'll ask but once more.

How tragic was your past?

Sit down, take a seat, listen to our story, and realize that things aren't so bad after all. Because once day, you're going to die, and the demons that you die with will follow you into eternity.


	2. Chapter 1: Baby Brother

I was born into a poor family.

We were fortunate enough to have a roof over our heads and one meal per day. My father worked in the fields day in and day out to earn the little money we could to keep the family going. My mother stayed home to look after me, but I often saw strange men follow her into the bedroom while father was away.

When mother found out that she was pregnant, I remember her being afraid. She would pace the room and bite at her nails nervously. Whenever father tried to ask her what was wrong, she'd lie and tell him that it was nothing. I was six at the time, and being as naive as I was, I failed to understand why. I was going to be a big brother, and I was excited.

When my mother finally told my father that she was expecting, he acted very coldly towards her. She never told him about the other men that she'd bring into the house, and maybe that was for the best, but she was scolded harshly for it.

"It's difficult enough to make ends meet with one child!" He yelled, "I'll have to work twice as hard to feed another mouth!"

Mother locked herself in the bedroom and cried as my father stormed out of the house.

I would listen through the door and patiently wait for her sobs to die down before going inside and crawling into bed next to her. Having me there to hold seemed to bring her comfort.

"Don't worry, mommy," I told her, "I'll get a a job, too! Then daddy and I can work in the fields together! Then we can feed my little brother or sister, too!"

"You would do that?" She asked me, "You're such a good boy, Claude."

I stayed true to my word. The next day, I went out with my father to harvest wheat and I quickly found out that field work was not to my liking. Instead, I gained an apprenticeship at the local tailor shop. I was quite good at sewing and knitting, and the customers seemed to admire my skills with a needle and thread. But the few coins I earned there didn't feel like they were enough to please my father. In my youth, I enjoyed tap dancing, and I took that talent to the streets to entertain those who passed by.

I returned home every night bitterly exhausted, but I'd return home with pouches full of money. It was less of a strain to feed the three of us, and it didn't take long for father to grow fond of the idea of having a second child. It made me very happy, and I started to grow fond of the tiny person within my mother's growing bump.

"I'll protect you," I said, "No matter what, I'll protect you and keep you safe."

Even back then, it seems, I was a liar.

The day my mother gave birth, I swore it had to be the happiest day of my life. Though I didn't know it at the time, while I spent the whole day working and dancing, my father stayed at home with my mother, helping her deliver.

I remember walking through the door of our house and entering into a blissful atmosphere. I followed it to my parent's bedroom, where I could hear joyful whispers being exchanged between my mother and father. Their heads turned to me as I pushed the door open. A tiny infant with jet black hair, like that of my mother's, lay cradled in her arms, sound asleep.

"Come here, Claude," my mother called to me, "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

I settled myself beside her and looked into the tiny, sleeping bundle.

"This is your baby brother," she said, "His name is Sebastian."

Sebastian. My baby brother, Sebastian.

"He's so tiny," I commented, "is he really going to stay that small?"

My father chuckled, "No, he'll grow. As a matter of fact, he's probably around the same size as you were when you were born; maybe a bit smaller."

My mother passed him over to me. It was probably then that I first looked into his eyes. Those blueish grey orbs held something in them that didn't see again for a very long time.

Trust.

As my baby brother laid there, cradled in my arms and slowly drifted back off to sleep, he trusted me to continue holding him and keep him safe.

But not all babies' eyes stay that true, innocent blue. At some point they grow and their true colors start to show through. In the time that we lived in, people were very skeptical and paranoid; looking for any reason to accuse their neighbor of witchcraft or demonic possession, and the true color of Sebastian's eyes made people think something . . . truly unnerving.

For the longest time, we all thought they were a nice copper brown, like those of my father's father. It took the rest of the village pointing at him and screaming to realize they weren't brown, but red.

It was that one thing that made Sebastian go from being my baby brother to a monster.


	3. Chapter 2: The Family Monster

I regret a lot of things I've done in my long life, both as a demon and as a human. One of the things that I'll always regret the most is being as superstitious as the people in my village.

My parents received a lot of harsh treatment for Sebastian's appearance. Father dealt with several confrontations at work while mother was constantly being harassed and assaulted whenever she left the house. Several neighbors told us that we should abandon Sebastian in the woods, or drown him in the nearby river. Even the local children would taunt me at school, telling me my baby brother was a monster and would probably eat me in my sleep.

My mother was the first to crack under the pressure. She refused to nurse Sebastiaan, change him, or even come to his side when he'd cry. It got so bad that she couldn't even stand to look at him.

"I regret everything!" She would cry, "I regret allowing that thing to come out of my body!"

I would often care for Sebastian in my mother's absence. My father encouraged this, as allowing Sebastiaan to die would have resulted in severe punishment from the court.

But as Sebastian grew, things only got worse. My mother began locking him in our bedroom the moment he was able to walk. I was only allowed in to feed and change him. The only relief I had from this duty was when I'd have to work and my mother would be forced to care for him in my and my father's absence. When we returned home to her beating him down with a pillow and slapping him, one day, it was decided that it would be better if my father stayed home to look after him, instead.

As the years passed and Sebastian grew, however, my father began to change. He drank more often, and in a drunken rage he'd beat him mercilessly. New rules were put up in the house. Sebastian was only to leave his room to use the bathroom and do the household chores. He wasn't permitted to speak unless he was spoken to. He couldn't sleep on a bed or rest on any sort of furniture. When the weather was warmer, he'd sleep underneath the stairs behind the house. When it was colder, Sebastian slept in an empty bedroom on the floor. He could only eat what was left over from our meals. If nothing was left over, he didn't eat. Disobeying these rules in any sort of way typically resulted in a brutal beating, but my father did that anyway out of pure sport.

New rules were put into place for me, as well. I was forbidden from giving Sebastian any sort of "special treatment". I wasn't allowed to talk to him, play with him, or comfort him if he was hurt or sick. Doing so didn't exactly result in a beating, but it did land me with a long, harsh lecture from my parents. As far as I was concerned, I didn't have a brother anymore.

Sebastian was five years old when these rules were put into place. In the few times I saw him during the day, I could tell that while he didn't understand why his life was like this, it was the only life he knew, so he didn't question it.

Things only became worse for him when my mother found out she was pregnant, once again. Rules became stricter. Sebastian was forbidden from looking at my mother or her growing bump for fear that it too would turn into a monster like him. Sebastian couldn't so much as touch the food that she ate, and he was completely prohibited from speaking within earshot of her, thinking that the sound of his voice would give the baby nightmares.

Once again, I filled in the holes they left.

The energy within our home became so negative that it started impacting my life as well. I found myself acting very coldly towards Sebastian. I'd shove him aside if he were in my way. I spit in his food if I had to bring it to him, or I just wouldn't bring at all. At night, I'd wait until he was sound asleep before waking him with a vicious beating. I don't know what possessed me to treat Sebastian the way I did, but I got off on it. In a sick sort of way, it made me feel better.

For the longest time after that, I no longer saw him as my brother. Just a punching bag.

I was surprised when my father allowed Sebastian to come out of his room the day my mother gave birth. He sent me to fetch him and bring him to their bedroom. I kicked him all the way there. He stood up straight before my parents, not daring to make eye contact with the tiny bundle wrapped safely and my mother's arms.

"Sebastian," it was the first time in weeks since I had heard my father use his name, "this is our new son. His name is William. You are to show him the same respect as us and Claude. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Sebastian replied, giving them a curt bow. He behaved like a servant.

Little did I know at the time that William's birth opened the door to a whole new level of abuse for Sebastian.


	4. Chapter 3: Hardly Brothers

In a way, I'm glad things happen as they did. I'm not proud of how I treated Sebastian or going along with my family's treatment of him, but there's not a living being on this earth that's as relieved as I am that William was never given the opportunity to become a demon. He would've given the devil a run for his money!

William grew up to hate Sebastian more than our parents did. At four years old, he was ordering him around like a slave. At seven, he was engaging in the ruthless beatings given by my father. He didn't even know what Sebastian's name was for several years, and even when he learned his name, he still only addressed him as "freak" or "monster".

I don't think it helped that William and I would often gang up on him. Beating him became a daily occurrence, you could almost call it a game. During the days when it rained, he'd make him sleep outside. When it would snow, he threw him into the frozen river. He got off on hurting Sebastian more than I did, but I'd often stand by and laugh or throw stones at him while he just took it.

What I never understood was why Sebastian put up with the abuse. There was nothing to keep him from running away. Our doors and windows were never locked, and we didn't own a dog that could track him down if he did. Even with our father beating him, mother yelling at and harassing him, and William and I joining in simply for our own amusement, Sebastian never fought back or ran away. I don't think he even hated us for it. I think in his mind, we were still his family and all he had.

But when I stopped and actually tried to look at him, I could see what our actions were doing to him. The countless times William and I would beat him awake in the middle of the night had turned Sebastian into an insomniac. With each day that passed, the circles around his eyes became darker. Our father beat him more frequently for either not doing his chores or not doing them right, which I can say didn't help him in the long run. The constant abuse made him shaky and jumpy, and it didn't take long before simply walking past the door to his bedroom was enough to startle him awake.

"You're such a scaredy-cat!" William would tease him, "the only monster that's in this house is you!"

Sebastian almost never said anything back to him aside from "yes" or "sorry" .

The meals we had deprived him of had left Sebastian thin and with barely enough muscle to allow him to stand and move about. I didn't realize this until one day I saw him changing out of his shirt and I could count most of the vertebrae in his spine and every rib of his rib cage. How did he have the strength to do his chores? How did he avoid freezing to death in the winter? When William would throw him into the river, how did he manage to crawl out without a scrap of fat to keep him warm or afloat?

Despite having so many questions, I didn't treat him any better. I was an arrogant teenager and the only thing I was concerned about was myself. My own priorities came before all else, including my family.

Sebastian wasn't the only one I treated coldly. My relationships with the rest of my family suffered too. I rarely acknowledged my mother and only obeyed my father's rules when it was convenient for me; the rules that didn't concern Sebastian, anyhow. While William was my baby brother and I tried to look out for him, the biggest role I played in his life was being another person he could beat on Sebastan with. I could already tell that he was strong and independent. Even at the age of six, he was working overtime in the fields - and actually enjoyed it - and carried himself like he owned the place. If our father ever chose to kick him out, he could easily build his own cabin in the woods and stand on his own two feet. I hardly had an influence on him, so whether or not I was included in his life didn't matter to him at all.

I think there was only one time where the three of us came together as kids and actually got along. Nobody got beat up and nobody acted stuck up. We had all noticed at this time that mother and father were spending a lot of time out of the house. With father, we understood because he worked, but mother always stayed at home. The only time when she was out was when she would go to town to buy more food and supplies. But to be gone every day with father made us feel a little bit suspicious.

When they slipped out of the house again for the third day in a row, the three of us followed them. They traveled along a path of the nearby woods, one that led into a small clearing beside the river. We sent Sebastian ahead to spy on them and report back to us when he had a grasp of what they were doing. William and I figured that they were just going down to the river to fish, but it gave us a little bit of a rush to be following them when they wouldn't tell us where they were actually going.

Sebastian was gone for well over ten minutes. At first, we worried that our parents had seen him and they were beating him ruthlessly for following and spying on them. We were about to turn back and assume the worst, when we heard footsteps coming from the trail ahead and Sebastian jogged back towards us.

"Well? What did you see?" William asked.

"Nothing," Sebastian replied, "they were just talking to someone."

"Who?" I asked, "Was it someone that we know?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

That's right. Sebastian wouldn't know if we knew them or not. We rarely had visitors, and when we did, he was forced to stay in his room until they left.

"It sounded like they were talking to a man that was in his fifties, maybe," he continued, "They were talking about some kind of a deal."

"They were probably trading some of our old stuff for clothes and blankets," I said, "it's getting colder out and we don't have the money to buy new ones."

While it didn't explain why they were going into the woods every day, it was logical enough of an explanation for the three of us to turn around and go home.

For the first and the last time, it seemed, we went home as brothers.


	5. Chapter 4: No Hope

My eyes didn't fully open to Sebastiaan suffering until we practically drove him over the edge with our abuse. Whenever I think about it, a certain amount of guilt washes over me.

It's a known fact, where I'm from, that Sebastian loves cats and hates dogs, and there's a reason for that. There was a cat that would sleep on the stairway behind our house, the same stairway Sebastian was made to sleep under sometimes. I knew that this cat provided him with a certain amount of happiness, and not really bothering to think twice about it, I allowed him to have it. It didn't bother me or affect me in any sort of way, so I really didn't care.

William, on the other hand, was as cruel as ever. When our neighbor told us that his hunting dog had come down with rabies, my baby brother had one last task for the pooch before his owner put him down. He waited until Sebastian was outback playing with the cat before he turned the dog loose.

William and I held him back as the rapid hound tore into the tiny feline. I was surprised that Sebastian wasn't trying to claw his way free, but that was because I hadn't seen the look on his face. His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open in disbelief. Horror coated his face as the dog reduced the cat into nothing more than a mutilated rag.

The commotion drew our parents out of the house and the dog's owners from their property across the road. Mother pulled William and me back inside while our father tried to drive the crazed hound away.

My eyes didn't leave Sebastian as I watched him sing to his knees before his mutilated friend.

"Such a shame," I heard my mother say, "I was always fond of that poor kitty."

It took everything in me to keep myself from saying, "So was Sebastian."

I waited patiently in the dining room for Sebastian to come back in. Hours passed. It was only when clouds began to gather and rain started to fall that I bothered to get up and get him myself. He was still in the same position as when we had left him, sitting on his knees in front of the dead cat. The pouring rain had soaked his hair and clothes and had wash the blood from the cat's mangled corpse into the soil.

Placing my hands on his shoulders, I stood him to his feet. He was cold and his body tensed under my touch.

"Come on. Let's go inside."

I guided him to his room and tossed him a towel.

"Dry yourself off and change before you get sick."

As I turned to leave, William stopped me in the hallway.

"Why are you being nice to him?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes, "I wasn't being nice to him, William. He needs to do his chores. He can't do them when he looks like that."

William shrugged and let out a chuckle, "Did you see the look on his face?"

Oh, I saw it, alright.

No hope.

That's all those eyes said to me now.

No hope.

\---

The silence that came from within Sebastian's room was deafening. He'd always been quiet, as to not disturb or upset the rest of us. William and our parents may have never thought twice about it, but it had me worried, even if it was just a little bit.

When I went to bring him his food, I listened in through the door.

Silence.

I knocked on the door twice before entering. Sebastian sat in the middle of his bedroom floor hugging his knees to his chest as he stared blankly out of his window. It had been three days since the incident with the dog, and I could tell that he had gotten very little sleep. The rings under his eyes were darker, his skin paler.

I didn't think twice about it as I set his plate of scraps on the floor in front of him and walked out. It was probably the first time that I was bothering to take in the damage our actions had caused him, and feel concerned about him. As much as I wanted to change it, however, I knew that it would be impossible so long as we stayed in our parent's house.

After an hour, I returned to Sebastian's room to pick up his dinner plate, only to find everything as I had left it. Sebastian still sat in the middle of his bedroom floor staring out the window. I doubt he had moved at all. The plate of scraps hadn't even been touched.

Anyone else would've taken the plate regardless if Sebastian had eaten or not, but the recent events that had transpired made me a little more motivated to reconnect with my younger brother; the child that I had promised to protect so long ago. Deep down I think I was tired of treating Sebastian like we weren't related, like he was different, like he was a monster or a slave. William had been taught to hate him from birth, but I hadn't. Enough was enough.

I scooped up the plate of leftovers and sat down beside Sebastian. I placed the plate onto his lap and nudged him.

"Eat."

No response.

I nudged him again, "Sebastian, you need to eat something."

No response.

"Sebastian? Hey!" Without thinking, I slapped him on the back of his head. Not hard, but hard enough to get his attention.

Sebastian curled himself up tighter and started to shiver.

"I-I'm sorry," he whimpered, "Didn't mean . . . I just . . . I'm not hungry, right now."

"You can't fool me, Sebastian," I said, "I know you haven't eaten much of anything for the past three days. I'm sorry I hit you, but you need to eat something!"

Sebastian stared at his plate for a few long seconds before he handed it back to me.

"I'm not hungry."

Unless I resorted to cramming the mash potatoes and chicken bones down his throat, I knew we would only be going in circles with this argument. I set the plate beside him as I stood up, telling him he could eat it when he felt like eating again.

I stepped out the door, only to be stopped by William in the hallway once more. He placed his hands on his hips and his face twisted into a disappointed scowl.

"You're being nice to him again," he said coldly, "Mother and father will be angry if they find out."

"Well they don't want him to die, either," I argued, "they'll be put in prison if he does. He is our brother, after all."

"Humph! Well not to me."

With that, William stormed past me and disappeared into his bedroom. It was late, so I decided to turn in for the night as well.

It was close to midnight when the sound of Sebastian's bedroom door creaking open woke me up from my sleep. It meant one of two things: either Sebastian was returning his plate to the kitchen, or William was going in for another late night beating. The lack of blows being landed from the other side of the wall that separated our two bedrooms and the clattering of dishes in the kitchen must have meant that Sebastian was simply returning his plate. While whether or not he actually ate anything from it was a mystery, it comforted me to know he still had the strength and willpower to go on.

Or so I thought.

For whatever reason, as Sebastian slipped back into his bedroom, I couldn't help but feel unsettled by something. There was a nagging feeling in my gut saying that Sebastian was in trouble and needed my help. I forced myself to roll out of bed and tiptoe to Sebastian's room once again. I heard nothing from inside.

"You're being stupid, Claude," I said to myself, "Sebastian is fine . . . Well, as fine as he can be. You're worrying over nothing."

Oh, how wrong was I!

Nothing struck me as odd when I opened the door. Sebastian sat in the middle of the floor facing the window. It was when the glint of metal hit my eyes that my thoughts flooded with concern. He was holding a knife and had the blade aimed at his chest!

So this was how far our abuse had driven him; to the point where there was no meaning to his existence and the only answer was for him to take his life. I can't say I blamed him.

Remember when I said that I was glad that things happened as they did and William hadn't become a demon? This follows those same lines. I'm glad that I had caught Sebastian in time before he could take his life. If I had ignored my gut feeling and gone back to sleep, we would have found Sebastian dead in his bedroom the next morning with the blade of that knife through his heart.

I took the blade from his hands before he had the chance to pierce skin. I put it back in the kitchen, where he had gotten it from, and pulled him into my bedroom.

"Clearly, I can't put enough trust in you to leave you alone. You're going to have to stay in my room tonight." I stopped him before he could settle himself on the floor. I wasn't taking any chances, "And you'll be sleeping in my bed so I can keep an eye on you."

Sebastian's gaze veered from me to my bed. It was then that it dawned on me that he had never been allowed to sleep in a bed, or even on our family room couch. As far as he was concerned, sleeping in a bed was a whole new experience and against the rules.

"It's okay," I told him, "If anyone says anything, I just tell them that I said you could."

Sebastian finally nodded and crawled in bed beside me. I slung an arm around his shoulders to make sure he wouldn't go anywhere. He remained tense, even as he settled down on the mattress and pulled the covers over him.

"C-Claude?" He whispered to me, "why are you doing this?"

I pulled him closer to my chest as he started to doze off.

"Because you're my brother, Sebastian."


	6. Chapter 5: In the Morning

Let me ease your mind from the two questions you might be asking yourself: how did William and our parents react to this, and did things for Sebastian get better? I don't think I'll ever know the answer to one of those questions, not entirely anyway. I know William found out, and he was hell-bent on telling father, not necessarily to get me in trouble, but to give him a reason to beat Sebastian. But that never happened.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. How Sebastian had managed to crawl out while I was sleeping, I don't know, but it made me panic. I didn't know how long he'd been gone or if he was still having suicidal thoughts. I jumped out of bed and ran into his bedroom. A sick feeling hit my stomach when he wasn't in there.

I spun around and made a dash for the kitchen, only to completely plow over someone in the hallway. Apparently Sebastian had heard the commotion I was making and came to see if I was all right. He had been making breakfast at the time.

"I'm sorry," he said timidly, "I just thought mother and father would want something to eat when they got home."

"When they got home?" I asked, "where did they go?"

"Back into the woods, I think."

It had been a few weeks since the three of us had followed mother and father into the woods. Nothing seemed to come of it. We didn't receive any clothes, or blankets, or any other useful supplies we needed. Fall was quickly coming to an end and all we had were the worn out clothes and blankets from previous winters. Sebastian hardly had anything. This winter could kill him, if it was brutal enough. It wouldn't matter if he slept inside or outside.

What were mother and father doing out there?

The commotion from running over Sebastian must have woken up William. He was groggy and still in his pajamas when he stepped out of his bedroom.

"What is it this time, you little freak?" He growled, "did a mouse run over your foot again?"

"Relax, William," I said, "it was me that was making all that noise. I wasn't watching where I was going, and I knocked him over."

William knew nothing about Sebastian's suicide attempt. Not that it really mattered. He'd probably wonder why I stopped him before calling me an idiot. It was probably for the best, since he would likely encourage Sebastian to kill himself. He would probably give him a loaded pistol with a single bullet, if given the chance. The last thing Sebastian needed was any more encouragement to do harm to himself.

"Well," William said, "next time you should knock him over a little harder . . . with a carriage."

With that, he turned around and locked himself back in his bedroom.

"Don't listen to him," I said, turning toward Sebastian, "He's just a . . ."

I had been so caught up in my conversation with William that I hadn't heard Sebastian move back into the kitchen, preparing a platter of bacon and eggs for me us.

"Did you say something, Claude?" He asked, "I'm sorry, but I didn't want the breakfast to burn."

He handed me one of the plates and moved to bring the other to William.

"Where's yours?" I asked him.

A confused look settled on Sebastian's face, "Where's what?"

"Your breakfast. I'm not eating anything until I know you've had something to eat."

He looked from the plate back to me, "But I . . ."

"I don't care what mother and father might say. They're not here right now, and William's going to be asleep for another hour, at least. You can make his breakfast when he gets up. "

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and guided him towards the dinner table. I sat down in a chair beside him and handed him his silverware. He continued to stare at his plate for a long time before finally cutting into the egg.

"I don't like this, "he stated, "what if mother and father see?"

"For Pete's sake, Sebastian! You're eating breakfast, not committing a murder, here! If they've got a problem with it, they can take it up with me, because I said you could. And they told you to never argue with me."

Sebastian gave a small nod before shoveling the egg into his mouth. I could now eat with a clean conscience knowing my younger brother had food in his belly.

We were in the middle of our meal, when there was a knock at the door. We weren't expecting any visitors and our neighbors rarely came to us for assistance.

When I got up to answer the door, a man in a suit stood there. He had a sour look on his face, a look that said that whatever he was about to say was going to be bad.

"Is this the residence of Carl and Lily Smith?" He asked.

"Yes . . . " I replied cautiously, wondering why a fancy looking man like this would be looking for my parents.

"I am Detective Miller. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you and your brothers regarding your parents."

Detective Miller sat down at our table. William had come out of his room when he heard someone knocking on the front door.

"There's no easy way for me to say this." The detective said, "but your parents were found dead in the woods this morning. We suspect that it's murder."

The room fell silent. Williams eyes filled with tears. Sebastian didn't say anything, but I could see that he was upset.

"We found them in a small clearing beside the river with stab wounds to the back and chest. We're looking for more details about what might have happened and why they were out there in the first place. Do you kids know anything? Did they say why they were going out there? Maybe someone they planned on meeting?"

William was too hysterical to answer.

"About a month ago, we followed them into the woods," I said, " they never told us where they were going or what they were doing."

"They met up with someone in that clearing," Sebastian chimed in, "a man that sounded like he was in his fifty's."

"Did you see what he looked like?" Detective Miller asked, "maybe the clothes he was wearing?"

Sebastian shook his head, "I was only close enough to see my parents and hear what they were saying to him. Something about a deal."

"What kind of a deal?"

"We thought they were trading some supplies for the winter," I told him, "like clothes and blankets. But they've gone into the woods multiple times, and returned with nothing."

"That's because that wasn't what the deal was about," Sebastian's words caught me off guard, "That day, when I followed them into the clearing, the deal wasn't about trading for food, clothes, blankets, or even money. It had something to do with me and my brothers. I left before I could hear everything, but they talked about using us in exchange for better property and wealth."

The detective let out a deep sigh, "I see. And you think that this time, something about their deal went wrong and the person they were talking to had killed them?"

Sebastian shrugged, "I didn't see what happened this time. I was here making breakfast for my brothers."

I honestly didn't want to believe what Sebastian was saying. Our parents would never trade us for such things, would they? I could see them doing it to Sebastian, but our mother and father adored me and William. We were what they cherish the most. What could they possibly trade us for that made us meaningless to them? At the time my mind couldn't even comprehend what I was hearing.

"I can see you boys need some time to let this news sink in," Detective Miller finally said, glancing towards William, "I'll be back tomorrow with more questions and the date for your parents funerals. If you'd like to see them now, they've been taken to the undertaker's parlor."


	7. Chapter 6: The Undertaker

Our parents were dead. We were alone.

I had never seen William cry as hard as he did that day. While he was seventeen, plenty old enough to start doing things for himself, he was still dependent on our parents. Whether it was simply to keep the roof over our heads or because he actually needed them, I may never know.

Another thing I may never know is whether or not Sebastian actually mourned the deaths of our parents. While he did look upset about the matter, not once did he shed a single tear. I can't say I blamed him. Our parents had done nothing more than abuse and neglect him. In fact, I think our trip to the undertaker's parlor had been the first time hed ever been allowed out of the house. It wouldn't surprise me if he was glad to be rid of our parents and figured they got what they deserved.

As for me, it was a while before I was given time to grieve. I spent most of my time trying to keep William from tearing into Sebastian while we were in town. He seemed pretty convinced that he had something to do with our parents' murders, even though I knew that was impossible. He'd been at home at the time the murders occurred. He couldn't have done it.

The walk to the undertakers parlor was probably the worst part of this whole ordeal. Nevermind William trying to kill Sebastian the entire way, the news had the townsfolk completely flustered. On top of that, Sebastian's appearance caused somewhat of a disturbance. The people weren't just terrified by the color of his eyes, they were curious. They stared, and that atmosphere alone made him turn back and try to head home and number of times. Each time I would grab him and pull him forward.

We reached the undertaker's parlor at the stroke of noon. It was a dreary building about a mile down the road from the local cemetery. We got there just as our parents had been fitted for coffins and cleaned up.

The undertaker was a skinny old man with shoulder-length gray hair. He wore black robes with long sleeves and a black top hat. His face was twisted in a crooked smile and his body shook occasionally with unnecessary chuckling. He was crazy, even back then, and everyone knew it. The undertaker that dealt with the victims from the Jack the Ripper case? This was the same undertaker hundreds of years prior to that.

William couldn't manage more than a glance into the coffins before he started crying again. At first glance, there was no evidence that mother and father had been murdered. They looked incredibly peaceful and the wounds were either cleverly hidden with the careful placement of clothes and hair or covered up with make up.

"Pretty neat, eh?" The undertaker said in a raspy voice, "you never woulda guessed that they had been killed in such a grizzly fashion. Two beautiful works of art."

The old man's gaze shifted to Sebastian and a pondering hum erupted from his throat.

"I say . . . You wouldn't happen to be related to the Red-Eyed Raven, would you?"

Sebastian shrunk back against the door, "I um . . . I-I don't know what you mean."

"Your grandfather. His name was Raven Smith, wasn't it ? No need to hide it. Why you look just like him; all the way down to that garnet gaze of yours!"

"Don't say that!" William hissed, stalking towards the undertaker, "Our grandfather was nothing like that beast!"

"Oh, but he was," the undertaker chuckled, "I grew up with the man, I should know. He was a kind and friendly man even though he was shunned by the rest of the village, all because everyone was afraid he was a demon. After a while people started to say that his eyes were copper, but I tell you copper and red are two completely different colors."

Undertaker gestured for Sebastian to approach, "What's your name, young lad?"

Sebastian cautiously stepped forward and stood before the crazed old loon, "Sebastian."

"This is the first time I've seen you around here, Sebastian. Why you're practically grown up! Where have you been?"

"I . . . I take care of the house, sir."

"Is that so? Or are you a prisoner, locked away day and night so no one can see you? It's alright. You can tell me. That's exactly how your grandfather Raven lived."

Even though I stood a fair distance away from him, I could see Sebastian trembling. He looked as though he were at war with himself; torn between feeding the lie and giving into the truth.

Finally, I rested a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," I told him, "you don't have to hide anymore, Sebastian. Tell us what's on your mind."

The look I received from him was heartbreaking. The only way I can describe it is as the look of pure mental and emotional exhaustion. The exhaustion from being beaten on a daily basis, the exhaustion from not being able to sleep, the exhaustion from taking our families insults, the exhaustion from the lack of meals, the exhaustion from always being alone, from having to do everything alone; all of it came out at once.

His body shattered as he allowed his tears to break past their barriers. His legs gave under his weight as he sank to his knees and sobbed loudly into his hands. The undertaker's expression softened into a warm smile as he stepped forward and knelt down beside him, allowing him to press against his robes in search for the comfort he'd always longed for as he rested a long nailed, bony hand on his head.

"That's it, lad," he said in a strangely calming voice, "Let it out. Let it out."

Even William seem to be taken by Sebastian's meltdown. I don't think he even knew how much pain he'd been in all this time until now, and I watched in awe as he too sank to his knees and cried with him. I didn't care if it was because he felt guilty about how he had treated him or if he was still crying over the deaths of our parents, it was just nice to see him trying to comfort and seek comfort from him, for a change. I knelt down beside them both and embraced them.

The three of us had finally become brothers.


	8. Chapter 7: A Second Chance as Brothers

Did things ever get better for Sebastian? I honestly wish I knew. On some level, I even wish he'd tell me. One thing that I am certain of, though is that he never got used to the peace. In the months that passed after our parents' funerals, he remained the same; frightened, jumpy, and incredibly compliant to my and William's demands.

It took time for William to retrain himself from calling Sebastian "freak" or "monster" to using his name. I would often smack the back of his head or scold him if he did. I know he didn't mean to, especially since he was treating him a thousand times better than he used to, but he needed to learn at the slightest things were detrimental to Sebastian's readjustment, and I didn't want to see him live out the rest of his days cautious and afraid of the only family he had.

Our first order of business, after our parents had been buried, was putting a bed in Sebastian's bedroom. I never wanted to see him sleep on the floor again so long as I lived, and I think William felt the same way. With winter just around the corner, he needed a warm bed and covers he could curl beneath at night. Detective Miller even went through the trouble of buying him clothes for the cold weather; pants, shirts, a hat, a scarf, gloves, and a warm leather trenchcoat were all included. Sebastian tried fighting it, saying he didn't deserve it, or that he had nothing to pay him back with, but Detective Miller was insistent on letting him have them for nothing in return; nothing except to call him if we net ever needed help.

But while this put one problem to rest, there was another lingering over our heads. Night terrors. So many times I would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Sebastian screaming and thrashing in his bed. He would kick the covers and pillows away from him, curl up, and cover his head with his hands, just like he did whenever we would beat him. Trying to comfort him ended with me or William getting punched on a few occasions, but we'd brush it off. It seemed as though while our parents were dead and gone, they were still able to terrorize Sebastian in his nightmares.

His insomnia didn't get much better. He still woke up to the slightest of sounds, even if it was just me or William rolling over in our sleep. He had trouble falling asleep and staying asleep, and I'd often sit up with him into the wee hours of the morning or he'd crawl in bed next to me late into the night. I took it. Anything was better than seeing him alone with a knife at his chest again.

It took a while for Sebastian to adjust to receiving full meals instead of just scraps. He wasn't used to eating at the dinner table or eating food that was freshly cooked, and Sebastian's cooking wasn't bad. It was great, actually, and I could only imagine the torture it must have been to cook all these delicious meals and to not be able to enjoy them. Over time the meals made him stronger. Skin and bone gradually increased into lean muscle, and he began to look a lot healthier.

When springtime came around, he got a job working in the fields with William. He was a fast learner, and soon I heard of him doing everything from repairing fences to rounding up cattle to planting and harvesting crops. Even in his short life as a human, he was incredibly skilled; capable of doing whatever was requested of him.

Gradually, the villagers started to warm up to him. Many became attached to his shy, quiet disposition and his tendency to put everyone else before himself. I will admit, he was not ugly, so it really wasn't surprising when he started becoming popular with the ladies. One girl in particular that went by the name of Angela was particularly fond of him, and he didn't deny that he was quite fond of her. It wasn't long before I began spotting them together in town, walking side by side.

Whatever it was about Angela, it seemed to help Sebastian out a lot. He was less tense, less jumpy, less fearful. He got more sleep at night and his night terrors came few and far between. If he wasn't at the house or at work, he was with Angela. Rumor on the street was that there were bets flying around that he would propose to her and they would get married.

For the most part, William and I didn't mind. It was the happiest we had ever seen Sebastian, and if he was happy, so were we. The only thing that lingered over my head was that Angela came from a very religious family. While I heard nothing of her mother or father disapproving of the relationship, her brother Ash wasn't having any of it. He was one of the few that still clung onto the believe that Sebastian was an evil creature that was corrupting his beloved sister, simply because his eyes were red. Angela didn't take anything from Ash, though, and worked hard to convince him that Sebastian was good and hadn't led her astray in the slightest.

I too met a lovely young woman by the name of Hannah and fell in love. She was a nanny for a wealthier family in town and would often watch my tap dancing displays from the balcony. It wasn't long before I was being invited to entertain guests at parties and dinners. Over the years I had become so skilled that I could dance on the edges of fountains and along second-story railings. The performances brought in more money and I got to spend more and more time with Hannah.

I think William was the only one who struggled to find someone to be with. He had gone from working in the fields to in an office in town, and overall he was an incredibly dull fellow who enjoyed work. He took no interest in the secretaries there, nor were there any women in town that caught his eye. None that we knew of, anyways.

Suddenly, Sebastian and I heard a suspicious rumor going around that William was seeing a man in secret. Now, ordinarily I would have minded my own business and wouldn't have cared, but seeing how the only detail we knew about this man was that he had bright red hair, I knew exactly who they were talking about.

His name was Grell Sutcliff, and he was – and still is – the textbook definition of a homosexual. I frequently amuse myself with the thoughts of rainbows launching him into the air whenever he got excited. And honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if Grell had started these rumors himself. In his own little world, no man was safe; well, no man he took a liking to, anyways. If William was somewhere in that spectrum, it wouldn't be a surprise if Grell had said something that the rest of the village interpreted as the two of them being in a relationship.

Sebastian, on the other hand, had his doubts. As far as he was concerned, William didn't care about anyone outside of our family and those with more authority than him. William wasn't interested in a relationship, and he was happier staying that way. If Grell had decided to make a show about something concerning him, William would be quick to pull the plug. So the fact that these rumors existed didn't rule out the impossible, but Sebastian wasn't willing to jump to conclusions.

What was the impossible? The fact that William might very well be in a relationship with Grell by his own choice. If that were the case and word got out, then they could both be in big trouble. Homosexuals, while we acknowledged their existence, were typically besmirched and shunned by everyone who knew about the couple's relationship. If William truly was with Grell, he risked losing his job and his dignity; the two things that he valued the most.

Like Sebastian, though, I wasn't willing to jump to conclusions. We were all brothers, after all. I was sure we'd be able to sit down and discuss the matter when he got home from work later that night.


	9. Chapter 8: A Secret Meeting

Let me be clear about something. William never confided in us about anything. Most of his problems he just locked away and dealt with alone. So it's needless to say that confronting him about these suspicious rumors was anything but simple.

He tried to deny it, at first. He pretended not to know what we were talking about. Of course he knew who Grell was and what his habits were, but he said he stayed away from him. Whenever we'd ask him about the rumors going around the village, he just say that they weren't true, or that he hadn't heard of them.

When it became obvious that we were catching on to his lies, he avoided the topic altogether. Whenever Sebastian and I would bring it up, he either wouldn't answer or he'd say that it didn't matter.

Sebastian and I quickly got tired of the subject being avoided, so our only option was to catch William red-handed! Sunday was the only day of the week that William didn't have work; the excuse he'd been making whenever he'd slip out of the house. When we heard him slip out the door in the wee hours Sunday morning, Sebastian and I decided to follow him. We kept our distance, as to not be seen, but we didn't take our sights off of him.

William slipped down a back alley and down a narrow trail that led to a bridge in the woods. He veered off to the side and slipped down the bank to the underside of the bridge. Sebastian and I crouched down and listen from above.

"Oh William, you actually came!"

The overly feminine tone of voice told us that the other person was most definitely Grell.

"Yeah," William said, "I can't stay long though. My brothers might've heard me, and I think they followed me."

"So what if they did? It's not like our relationship is a crime, or anything."

"You know, they've been questioning me relentlessly. Just how many people have you told that we were together?"

"Nobody, darling! I haven't told a soul!"

"Then how does everyone know?"

"William . . . It's a small village. Word gets around, whether we say anything or not."

"I guess that's true . . ."

There was a long silence between them before Grell spoke.

"Will . . . Why do I get the impression that you're embarrassed of me?"

"No, I'm not. That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just that I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of running. I've been keeping this from my own brothers! They're my only family. Claude has Hannah. Sebastian has Angela. Don't I deserve to have someone too? I'm tired of having to keep our love a secret."

"Darling, whoever said that you had to keep our love a secret? Why I've only done it because you practically begged me too! We don't have to keep hiding if you don't want to."

"But what will people say? I'll lose my job, and then all I'd be is a burden on my brothers."

"We can run away together! Start a new life in a new town. It doesn't have to be this way for us just because were both men."

I felt my body grow tense when William didn't answer. I didn't want to think that he was actually considering it!

I looked over to Sebastian, and I could tell that he was just as unsettled by this as I was.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, William let out a sigh.

"Okay . . . It might not be fair to my brothers, but if it's for you, anything."

Everything in me sank. I knew it was bound to happen, whether it was with a woman or not, but considering William had just left without notice, met up with Grell in secret, and had agreed to run away with him just so they can be together without being ridiculed; I'll admit, it made me both angry and sad. But really, what was holding him back aside from us? He could get a new job, and deep down I didn't want us to be the reason he didn't make something of his life.

William and Grell agreed to meet again the following Sunday, then they'd run away together. After a long, passionate kiss, the two of them parted ways. Sebastian and I waited until Grell was out of earshot before we followed William back down the path towards the main road.

"So that's it, huh? You're just going to leave?"

My statement made William jump. He spun around to face us, and his surprise instantly turned into annoyance.

"I knew you had to have followed me out here. In fact, I fully expected you to appear in the middle of our discussion, but instead you decided to spy on me. So . . . How much did you hear?"

"Oh, we heard everything," I replied, "everything down to the hi's and goodbye's."

William stood there for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"I do intend on leaving with Grell next week," he stated, "You're my brothers, my family, but . . . I want to be with Grell. I can't live like this forever, Claude."

Deep down I understood where William was coming from, but in the moment that it happened I just felt so upset, like he was just going to ditch us. Frustrated, I turned to Sebastian.

"And you! Don't you have anything to say about this?"

Sebastian blinked a few times before he shrugged.

"He does have a point, Claude. If the rest of the village knew the whole truth, William would lose his job. I know what it's like to live life in a cage. If it means he can be free and happy, let him do what he pleases."

I was stunned. Not because of the fact that he was taking William's side on this, but because this had been the first time he had expressed the pain his past has caused him through words. No screaming, no hiding, no excessive amounts of obedience. Words.

"Thank you for understanding, Sebastian," William said, smiling, "And what about you, Claude? Are you going to try to stop me?"

I scoffed, "Why should I? You two go off and be happy. We'll still be here."

The truth was, I wanted him to stay. I wanted us to stay together and be a family. But that isn't how life works. Eventually every bird has to leave the nest, fly, and build a nest of its own. Even if this bird was flying of to make a nest with Grell Sutcliffe.


	10. Chapter 9: Goodbye Brother

If all stories have a happy ending, then William's would've been with Grell as the two of them built a new life for themselves elsewhere. But this story doesn't have a happy ending. In fact, neither William's, Sebastian's, or my own life have a happy ending.

Three days is what it took for word to get around our tiny village that William was leaving. While some were genuinely sad to see him go, others that had come to believe the rumors floating around began causing problems, especially when they realized that Grell was also planning to leave the very same day.

The things that they said to them were so horrid, I don't dare to repeat them. But Sebastian and I were able to see the damage they were causing. Grell cried almost every day. A flash of red and there he would be on the street corner sobbing. William would try to comfort him, but it was useless.

Sebastian and I tried to urge them to leave sooner. Catch a ship, find a carriage, buy some horses; heck, walking was better than putting up with the abuse they were facing from the townspeople. There was no law that said they had to leave on Sunday. But William said that they weren't ready. It was a two day's travel to the nearest town by horse, and they didn't have the supplies to get them there.

And then they started to pluck William apart. It started when he lost his job, and then the town's people started swooping in. They called him vile names, threw dirt and trash at him, and on the occasion a vendor in the market would refuse to serve him. While his facial expressions didn't outwardly show it, you could see in his eyes that he was hurting.

Sebastian and I could only sit back and watch as William started to mentally and emotionally tear himself apart.

And then it happened.

William was very careful not to wake us up that morning, because both Sebastian and I woke to the sound of Detective Miller knocking on our front door. He had that same look on his face, that sour look that said that he had come with bad news.

William and Grell were dead.

Completely unplanned and uncoordinated, Grell had slit his wrists on the second floor of his family's townhouse sometime overnight. And early this morning, before the early risers had to took to the village streets, William had jumped from a fifth story window of a building in town. Many people had apparently woken up to the sound of his body landing on the cobblestone street.

Sebastian, of all people, seem to be the most upset. He cried so hard, I was sure he was crying someone else's tears apart from his own. Perhaps he was crying Grell's tears. I'm sure this wasn't what the looney redhead wanted to have happen. Or maybe he was crying William's tears. The pain from losing a loved one is never a dull one, and William probably wanted something better for Grell than to be with him. We may never know. Grell's suicide note only read, "Goodbye, my love. Perhaps we'll meet again someday." And William hadn't written a note.

While I was sad, I was also very confused. Not by why exactly William had killed himself, but why Sebastian hadn't. Call it selfish thinking on my part, but Sebastian had gone through more trying times than William and Grell probably had put together. How the hell did Sebastian find it in himself to move forward? While I had stopped only one suicide attempt, there should've been countless others.

It wasn't a thought that I liked to entertain, but it was a fact. Sebastian should be dead, not William.

William and Grell were buried side by side underneath an old oak tree beside the river. It had the silence of the pines, the hiss of the rushing water, and the wildlife I knew William would have admired. I could picture the two of them sitting together and spending hours in this one spot watching the sunset over the trees.

The days following the deaths of William and Grell were tough. The townsfolk were reeling from what had happened, and it didn't help that it took a lot more time than should have for the blood to be cleaned from the streets where William had taken his life. Many of our neighbors came to offer their condolences, and it was a while before Sebastian or myself returned to work.

It took time for Sebastian to move on. He didn't cry as much, but his night terrors returned with a vengeance. Not only would he act as though he were being beaten viciously, he'd talk in his sleep, as well. And not incoherent mutters that were hardly a full thought, he was making full sentences, like there was somebody in the room with him. I often wake up to him screaming, "I didn't do it!" Or "What other choice did I have?"

These outbursts terrified Angela, and Ash refused to allow them to be together until we figured out what it was that was terrorizing Sebastian. But much like things had gone with William, whenever I asked him about it, he'd avoid the topic.

After a month of this, I decided I had finally had enough. I asked for Hannah's help in the matter, as she was a lot more kind and gentle than I was when push came to shove. At the time we were married and expecting a child, and knowing she made a great wife and would probably make a great mother, I didn't doubt her capability to win the trust of someone who was as timid as Sebastian. She actually managed to get him to sit down with us at the dining room table, and we slowly brought the topic back up.

"If there's something bothering you, you can always come and talk to us," she said sweetly, "William was a good man, but it isn't your fault of that he . . ."

"It's not that," Sebastian cut in, "it's about our parents."

I swallowed a lump that had lodged itself in my throat.

"Sebastian, I know what happened to you in the past was wrong, and I get it if you might not be willing to forgive them for what they did, but mother and father have been dead for so long now. They can't do anything to you anymore."

"It's not about what they did, it's about what I did."

I was instantly confused. What on earth could Sebastion have done? He was nothing short of obedient when it came to obeying our parents. He never ran away or fought back or cried for help when things got bad. He had done all that they asked, even getting up early to make them breakfast on the day they died. And he was even willing to continue this behavior months after they were buried.

"Sebastian, you never did anything wrong," I said "What could you have possibly done to them?"

Sebastian cringed, "Well . . . Remember the morning that they died? I said that they'd gone out . . . That I'd seen them go out?"

"Yes."

"I lied."

I paused.

Lied? Sebastian wasn't a liar, was he?

"Well, it was sort of a lie," he continued, "I woke up that morning because I heard them packing up a few things. It was very, very early in the morning, so I knew they couldn't have been going into town. I knew then that they were going into the woods. Remember the man I told you they were talking to the day we followed them?"

I nodded.

"He wasn't a man. He was something else. I can't really describe it. The deal they had made was . . ."

"Was . . . what?"

" . . . The deal was that you, William, and I were to be killed in exchange for immortality. They were making a pact with the devil, Claude."

I froze. Was this some kind of a joke? Was he making up some kind of story to give some sort of explanation for our parents deaths?

I let out a nervous chuckle, "That's actually pretty good, Sebastian. Develop that story a bit more, and you'll be a best-selling novelist for sure!"

Hannah tapped my shoulder, "Claude . . . I don't think he's making this up."

I looked to Sebastian again. He was shaking and looked about ready to have another meltdown. But come on! Stories about devils and demons were nothing but scary stories, weren't they? They kept the churchy folks under control and struck fear into the hearts of mortal men. But they weren't real.

"Are you telling the truth?" I asked.

"Yes! I can't lie to you; never you, Claude. You guys were the only family I had! Maybe I could have lived with it if it was just me they were after. I was nothing but a monster, after all. But they loved you, and what had you and William done to deserve to wind up like that?! So I followed them into the woods again. They were going to meet him, the devil, to get a bit of guidance on how to go about killing us. It was going to be me, then they planned on killing you and William while you both slept. I couldn't let that happen, so I jumped on them. I grabbed the knife they had brought and I stabbed them until they were both dead."

Everything in me went numb. Sebastian had been the one who killed our parents all along? And this whole story about meeting the devil . . . Sebastian . . . Why?

"I didn't want to tell you, because I knew you wouldn't believe me," Sebastian finally said, "but the guilt has been eating away at me. And then when William died, it only made it worse."

What do I say? My brother just said he murdered our parents! That's not exactly something you turn a blind eye to. Even Hannah seem to be stuck on where to take this. Do we turn him in? No, the police will just think he's insane and lock him up in an asylum. That won't do. He'll truly go mad in a place like that.

Finally, I stood up and leaned in closer to him.

"We must have really done a number to your head as a kid, Sebastian. That's quite the story, but it's totally impossible. The devil doesn't exist, and I know you weren't strong enough to kill both mother and father. One of them would have gotten away, or killed you. Now why don't you tell us what these nightmares are really about!"

Sebastian's face fell and he too rose from his chair.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."


	11. Chapter 10: You're Not Dead

It was a number of years before I actually came to believe that Sebastian had killed our mother and father. After he stormed out of the dining room, Hannah I spent a good long time going back and forth about the matter.

Hannah was convinced that Sebastian was telling the truth; that he actually killed our parents and that they had made a deal with the devil, or something like that. She argued that he wouldn't have gotten so upset if he were just making it up, which I could agree with. I had never known Sebastian for ever being irrationally short tempered, and the fact that I wouldn't believe his claims did seem to make him a little bit more than just upset.

But I was a realist. Everything had a logical, practical explanation as to why it happened or how it happened. To say our parents somehow managed to summon a demon, make some sort of a deal, and then plot to kill us sounded like nothing more than another scary story meant to be told around a campfire. And Sebastian was about as violent or murderous as a day-old fawn. Even if he tried, I had no doubt in my mind that either my mother or father would have killed him before he could manage a single blow. The way I saw it, nothing about this story added up to any logical conclusion, no matter how emotional explaining it to us made him.

At the very least, though, we could pull him back to the table and try to sort everything out.

I walked back over to Sebastian's bedroom door and gave a few light taps against it.

"Sebastian? Come on out."

No response.

"Sebastian, let me in and we can sort all of this out."

No response.

The lack of sound coming from within the room left me a little concerned. Even if he was angry with me, I'd still be able to hear him moving about in there, either turning away from the door in his bed or pacing the room.

My heart leapt into my throat as I opened the door and found his room empty with his window thrown wide open. There were fresh tracks in the dirt outside, and they led away in a sprint towards the woods.

"Shit!"

Hannah scurried into the room with a concerned expression on her face, "What's wrong?"

"He's gone off into the woods somewhere!" I hissed, "You stay here. I'm going after him!"

I flew out the window before she could protest. I followed Sebastian's footprints at a dead sprint down a hauntingly familiar path. He was headed in the direction of the clearing; the same clearing where mother and father were killed. Was he trying to prove a point? Was he somehow going to show me the evidence that pointed to him telling the truth? I will admit, had he been able to show me the demon he'd been talking about at the time, I would have been more inclined to believe his story. But I had the strongest feeling that wasn't the reason Sebastian had disappeared into the woods.

I stopped at the side of the path and leaned heavily against the nearest tree. My lungs were on fire and even through my glasses, I couldn't see straight. The overwhelming feeling of dread I had felt the night Sebastian had tried to kill himself had returned, and as a result I felt the desperate need to find him. It wasn't exactly unusual for someone to come out to the forest to die. Plenty of villagers were drug to the undertaker's shop after being found hanging from a tree limb or with a bullet to the head.

"Claude?"

A familiar voice made me lift my head. Through my blurred vision, I could make out two figures dressed in white rushing towards me . I knew one of them was Ash, and if I had to wager a guess at the time, the other was Angela, judging from the dress and bonnet I could make out through the haze.

"Are you alright?" Ash asked, "you're as white as a ghost!"

"Sebastian . . ." I managed to gasp out, "Have you seen Sebastian?"

"No, we haven't. Why?"

"He ran off . . . We . . . We had a bit of an argument . . . And he ran off! Have to find . . ."

"For Heaven's sake, Claude, you can barely breathe!" Ash growled, "you should rest. I'm sure Sebastian is fine."

Angela tugged on Ash's sleeve.

"Ash, if Sebastian ran off and he's somewhere in the woods, don't you think we should find him? Something could be terribly wrong!"

"He has a history of attempted suicide." I stated, slowly catching my breath, "I have a bad feeling, like he's going to try to hurt himself again."

Ash and Angela exchanged nervous glances before nodding. The clearing wasn't far ahead of the trail, and they agreed to come with me. I resumed my sprinting, pushing ahead of them. My heart pounded. Not with the effort of pushing my already tired body into running, but with the knowledge that I could walk in on another one of Sebastian's attempted suicides. The last time was pure luck that I had listened to my instincts and walked into his room. Sebastian could be anywhere in these godforsaken woods, already dead.

I flew out into the clearing out of breath and out of energy. My legs gave out from under me as I collapsed to the ground. I was so out of breath, it felt like my lungs had forgotten how to take in air. I was about to give up on my efforts at finding Sebastian, turn around, go home, and just wait for the police to come to me with him either in chains or in a coffin.

That is, until I looked up.

In a nearby tree beside the river, I saw the silhouette of a man. At first glance he appeared to be standing beside the tree under a sturdy branch . . . That is until I caught a glimpse of the noose around his neck. A gust of wind turned the body at just the right angle to make out the details of his face.

My racing heart stopped. Whatever agony I was in numbed away into nothing as I made out a familiar face hidden behind those raven locks.

"Sebastian?"

I was climbing that tree faster than I had ever climbed any tree before. I drew a small knife that I kept sheathed in the inside pocket of my coat and started sawing through the rope.

"You're not dead!" I told myself, "you're not dead! You're not dead! You're not dead!"

I think that was the only time in my life where I ever believed in a God, because I was praying with every fiber of my soul that Sebastian wasn't dead. That he was all right.

Ash and Angela had caught up to me by this point. Ash practically had to pin Angela to the ground to keep her from scrambling up the tree after Sebastian. I could hear her wailing, and as I glanced towards her, I could see the desperate pleading in her eyes. Through her cries, I could hear Ash trying to calm her down as he held her against him.

I worked my knife faster against the rope.

"You're not dead! You're not dead! You're not dead!"

After what felt like hours of cutting, the rope finally snapped and Sebastian hit the ground with a hard thud. I instantly scrambled down the tree after him, reaching his side in a matter of seconds.

"Sebastian?" I called to him as I shook his shoulders, "Hey, Sebastian! Can you hear me?"

I pressed my ear against his chest as Ash crawled over untilted and air towards his lips.

"He's not breathing!" He stated, clearly panicked at the situation.

A faint drumming from somewhere within Sebastian's chest got my heart pumping again.

"He's still alive!"

Ash gave me a doubtful look, "Claude . . ."

"His heart still beating, Ash!"

I tore open Sebastian's coat and the shirt he was wearing and started pressing his chest and in an effort to get him to breathe. His body was still warm and I paid close attention to his pulse. So long as I had that, I knew that there was a chance of saving him. Ash eventually broke down and started giving him mouth-to-mouth. Neither of us had any medical experience. We didn't know if anything we were doing was actually helping him, but if there was the slightest chance that it would bring Sebastian back to us, then I was willing to try it before giving up.

Suddenly, before Ash could deliver another breath, Sebastian let out a small gasp. He was only still for a moment before another escaped him, followed by more that grow stronger with each breath he took. The color returned to his face and his eyes fluttered open.

My sigh of relief caught in my throat. All of a sudden it was I who had trouble breathing as I wrapped my arms around him and held him close to me. I couldn't stop the tears flowed down my face. I knew that he had a history of attempted suicide, I knew he was always in a frail state of mind, and I knew just how easy it was to drive him over the edge. If Sebastian had died because of my stubbornness, I would've never forgiven myself, which made me hug him a little tighter.

"Dammit, Sebastian!" I said, "you scared me half to death, you idiot!"

As his breaths became easier, Sebastian let out a low murmur. Whatever he was trying to say was silenced as I hugged him closer.

"Don't ever do that again!" I told him, "you and Hannah are the only family I have left now. Besides . . . What would Angela do without you?"

I felt Sebastian's gaze shift over to where Angela still sat, kneeling on the ground, tears still streaming down her cheeks. The white clad woman crawled closer to him and took one of his hands into hers.

"It doesn't matter if everyone calls you a monster," she said, "you'll always be an angel to me."

Sebastian let out a small chuckle, "As will you to me, Angela."

Nobody at the time knew how ironic that statement would be a few decades later. At the time I was just glad that Sebastian was still alive and that I wasn't the only one who didn't see him as a monster, a freak, or demon.


	12. Chapter 11: Evil Woman

The dissent into Hell does not begin when one dies. It starts sometime in the life one is born into and there are various slopes we stumble upon, which can either slow down or even stop the dissent or speed it back up. The slopes represent periods in our lives that are full of struggles and how we come out of them. It's fair to say Sebastian hit his first slopes pretty early on in life, and he's had moments where he'd fallen down and moments when he'd fallen down but managed to pick himself up again. But there is always one thing every person must bear in mind: Hell counts how many times you fall.

The first nail in my coffin was betraying Sebastian; siding with my parents' harsh treatment of him and not bothering to do anything about it. After our parents had died, I thought gaining back his trust and treating him as a brother would have been enough to pull that nail out. My long life as a demon has taught me that even if that had been the case, the hole left by that nail being driven in would always remain.

But the very first nail to be driven into anyone's coffin had been driven in by Hannah. Hannah was beautiful, kind, and well mannered. Everyone in our small village loved her sweet voice and her lullabies could send even the most nocturnal brute into a peaceful slumber. As my wife, she was my shoulder to cry on and the one person I trusted the most, next to Sebastian.

Nobody would have suspected her of murder.

At the time, many women were being stabbed to death in their homes and out on the street. There was no motive or connection other than that the victims were all female. Ages ranged anywhere from the early teens to the eldest elder. Not children, though. Any girl under the age of fourteen was ultimately spared. Everyone in the village thought it was some sick bastard that got his kicks from hurting women that was doing it. Hannah always had an alibi, even if she had to bribe someone; the old 'If Anyone Asks . . .' routine. She was at the baker's shop buying bread for the family. She was down at the river with our neighbors washing clothes. She was at home with Sebastian, cleaning. But the truth always was that she was washing her hands and clothes of the blood and disposing of a murder weapon.

For a short time, the townspeople tried to pin the blame on Sebastian. Being a "monster" and all, he was the most likely suspect . . .

That is, until Angela was found dead; stabbed to death in a back alley.

The Landers knew it couldn't have been Sebastian, and I knew it couldn't have been Sebastian because he was with me at the time that the crime happened. But Hannah wasn't. Supposedly, Hannah was home, dealing with bouts of Braxton Hicks. But there was no evidence to support this claim, and in the end everyone had some kind of a solid alibi while she did not. Eventually she was arrested and taken in for questioning.

Breaking the news of Angela's death to Sebastian had have to of been the hardest thing I ever had to do. It didn't help at all that Angela was also expecting a child at the time and she and Sebastian had only been married for a month. He cried, and not only did he cry, but he cried as he cradled her bloody body in his arms, not caring what kind of horrible stains resulted from it. Nobody interfered. Not me nor the undertaker or the police. We all knew he needed his chance to mourn. Pulling him away would probably only make things worse.

In the days following Hannah's arrest, she was found guilty of twelve counts of homicide and sentenced to death. I pleaded with the courts. She was still a woman that was expecting a child, a child that hadn't done anything wrong. I begged them to at least hold her until she had given birth, so that our child could at least be allowed to live. The judge turned my plea away. An eye for an eye, he called it. Hannah had killed an innocent woman carrying a child, now she wasn't going to be shown any mercy for her actions.

Half of my time went towards pacifying Hannah, while the other half was spent trying to pacify Sebastian. Hannah seemed to be afraid of what was going to happen to her. She begged me to talk to the judge some more, bust her out of the cell; heck, she even begged me to cut our child out of the womb in order to give it a chance to live. In the end, I could only tell her that it was useless. Her actions led her to this outcome, and she had to pay the price for it.

Sebastian had digressed into a shaken mess. He couldn't eat or sleep. The only thing he found he could do was wonder why. Why did Hannah kill Angela? Did she have a grudge against her? Did she feel threatened by her? Did her pious beliefs clash with her atheistic beliefs just a bit too much? Sebastian wasn't exactly a bible thumper himself, but he always allowed Angela to practice her beliefs when she wanted to. And while Angela didn't like that Sebastian didn't share her beliefs, she allowed him to be himself. Though they were both quite different, they had managed to make it work. For Sebastian, having Angela taken away from him was like clipping the wings of a bird.

The night before Hannah's excellent execution, Sebastian requested to visit her.

"Why?" I asked him, "Seeing her will only put you in more pain. I was even going to ask you not to come to the execution tomorrow."

"I didn't want to go, anyway," Sebastian replied quietly, "Angela would have never allowed herself to witness such a grizzly event. But I want to hear from Hannah's perspective why she did it. Why did she kill all those women; especially Angela, whom we were all so close to? I know it will be painful, but knowing what was in her head when she did it is better than not knowing at all."

I didn't argue with him. He needed closure, as did the rest of us. Angela's death tore Ash apart just as badly as I had Sebastian. Every time I go down to the prison visit Hannah, Ash was always there, pounding on the doors of her cell to get an answer from her. Maybe if it was Sebastian asking the questions, she'd budge a little bit.

I showed Sebastian the way to the prison cells that night. The walk there was silent, even as we passed the courthouse where they were preparing the gallows for Hannah's execution tomorrow morning. I felt queasy. We had attended a number of executions in the past. Now the thought of my own wife, heavy with our unborn child, hanging there with a short drop and a sudden stop, brought on the urge to vomit. I suppose this wasn't just a chance for Sebastian to get closure for what happened, but this was probably going to be the last time I would see Hannah alive. At the very least, I should try to make the most of it.

The guards of the prison allowed us ten minutes to see Hannah. It wasn't enough time for me, but I was sure it would be all the time Sebastian needed to get answers from her. The cells were dark and gloomy with nothing but a bucket for toilet and a bit of hay for a bed. Rats scurried about, stealing food and nipping at the prisoners that sat in their cells.

Hannah pressed against the bars of her cell door as she heard us approach.

"Oh, Claude, you're here!" She paused as her gaze veered towards Sebastian, "but why is he with you?"

The bitter tone in her voice irritated me. She had never acted so coldly towards Sebastian before, and she knew how much Angela had meant to him. Now that I think about it, I was just as curious as Sebastian was to know why she had killed her.

Sebastian knelt down in front of her at the foot of her cell.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, "what was there to gain from taking all of those lives? Those women didn't do anything to you, and Angela thought pretty highly of you, too."

Hannah scoffed, "You're asking me why I killed all those women? You killed your own parents. You're no better than I am!"

"Shut up, Hannah!" I snapped, "Sebastian never did anything to you! So why did you have to kill Angela?"

A sinister smile crossed Hannah's lips.

"You want to know why I did it? I did it because it was fun."

Hannah's words sent a chill up my spine as my skin crawled. Fun? In what world was taking the life of a sweet, innocent young woman who was pregnant fun?

"My first victim was actually a servant at the mansion I used to work in," she explained, "and she was a lot like me. She was planning on poisoning the family. I couldn't allow that, so I slit that witch's throat when I had the chance. It was fun watching her choke on her own blood as she tried to beg for her life. I loved it. Again and again, I killed to satisfy a newly found craving."

Sebastian shivered, "That's sickening!"

"And then there was Angela. Sure, she was a good person. She treated me quite kindly, as a matter of fact. It almost made me sad to drive that knife into her. Almost. Her pious values got on my nerves. I don't care about God, or angels, or heaven, or any of that nonsense. They're just children's stories; no more than those of unicorns or dragons. Surely even you're smart enough to know that, Sebastian."

Sebastian shook his head, "It doesn't matter. Those beliefs made Angela happy. That's all I've ever wanted her to be. If telling people those stories and believing in them made her happy, and I'd let her have them."

"Those are some touching words coming from a demon."

I had heard enough. I slammed my fist so hard against the bars of her cell that it tore open the skin of my knuckles. The bang the impact emitted made Hannah jump back.

"Nobody talks to my brother like that!" I snarled at her, "To think I gave you my heart, a place in our home, and we were going to have a child. We could have been happy, Hannah. But you don't deserve happiness. You deserve to rot in Hell!"

A clever smirk played on the edges of Hannahs mouth, "Is that so? Well then, if that's the case . . ."

To this day, my mind can't process how she managed to do it. Faster than my eyes could register, Hannah drew a small pistol from her petticoat and pulled the trigger.

"I'll just have to make sure to drag you down to Hell with me."

The bullet tore through the air with a slight flash and a loud pop. I expected to be the one getting shot, but felt nothing. Instead, I heard Sebastian cry out in pain as he collapsed to the floor, blood gushing from a bullet wound in his stomach.


	13. Chapter 12: On Death's Doorstep

What happened in the moments after that gun went off are a blur to me. One minute it was just the three of us talking, the next minute there were guards surrounding Hannah's cell and I was holding Sebastian as he continued to cry out in agony. The blood pouring from the wound in his gut soaked through his clothes and onto the floor.

My mind was spinning so much that I didn't process it when two guards lifted Sebastian out of my arms and rushed to find him a doctor. One minute Sebastian was here, and then he was gone. It was only then that my rage began to take over.

My hands slipped through the bars of Hannah's cell and found their way around her throat. They didn't strangle her, nor did they ring her neck like I wanted to. Instead they pulled her face towards mine until I could feel her breath beating against my face.

"And you call Sebastian a demon," I said hatefully, "what did he ever do to you?"

Hannah let out a small giggle, "Apparently you weren't listening to me. I'm just going to have to drag you down to Hell with me, starting with taking away the one person you swore to protect. You can be such a liar, you know?"

In the haze of my rage, I slammed Hannah's head against the metal bars of her cell. She cried out in pain, which only lead me to do it again . . . and again . . . and again . . . and again. I repeated the action until blood poured down her face and painted her side of the bars a sticky maroon color. She didn't die from those injuries. No, a guard stopped me before I could go that far.

"You call Sebastian a demon . . ." I said to her, "but the way I see it, the only demon here is you."

"Then what does that make you, I wonder?" Hannah chided, "you'd lay your hands on your pregnant wife, who also happens to be on her way to the gallows. Hell, you love your bastard brother more than you love me; that's how it's always been. Your life practically revolves around Sebastian."

"Sebastian is blood. He's everything to me, and like him you were everything to me, too. I was proud to call you my wife and say you were pregnant with my child, but . . ." What came out of my mouth next was nothing short of the truth, so I didn't exactly know that at the time, " but you just killed Sebastian. You want to talk about Hell? Try living the life Sebastian had to live. Every day was Hell for him! Sebastian is blood. Compared to him, you're nothing more than trash . . . garbage . . . scum. You are a monster."

Hannah looked defeated by my words, "Very well. If that's how you really feel, my love . . . I'll see you in Hell."

I stormed out of the prison chambers before she could get another word in. I was resolved that I wasn't going to be going to her execution tomorrow. Sebastian had just taken a bullet to the stomach. I'd much rather spend as much time as I could try to bring him comfort, rather than spend it at the foot of the gallows while my wicked witch of a wife swung by her neck from a noose.

I ran as quickly as I could to the nearest doctor, likely where they had taken Sebastian. I knew it wouldn't be much help to him. In the time we lived in, medical knowledge was incredibly limited. There weren't many known drugs or painkillers, aside from alcohol, and surgeries were so barbaric and gruesome, victims of gunshot wounds typically died anyways. I would have killed for the medical experience I had during my time at the Trancy estate. At the very least, though, the doctors and maids that worked in this time could make him feel comfortable and safe.

When the doctor met me at the door to Sebastian's room, I already knew what he was going to say. There was nothing they could do for him. Multiple organs had been damaged, and on top of that the bullet had broken into multiple fragments when it was shot out of the barrel. Surgery would be agonizing and it was likely that the injury could still kill him if the operation didn't. The doctor said it would be best if we just let nature take it's course.

I was fine with that. Sebastian did not deserve to die bound and gagged while the doctor tried to yank the pieces of the bullet out of him. He deserved to die with as little pain and stress as possible. It was a tough decision, but I would not allow my selfishness to cause Sebastian anymore suffering.

The sight that greeted me when I walked into that room wasn't a pretty one. The wound itself may not have looked bad, but with the massive amounts of blood pouring from it, staining his skin and clothes, it looked even worse than it had in the prison chambers. Sebastian had been clutching the wound, as the blood stained his hands, as well. His face was twisted in pain in his skin was already turning pale.

"C-Claude . . ." He managed to whimper out.

"I'm here, Sebastian," I said reassuringly as I settled myself next to him.

"It hurts . . ."

My chest tightened as I held his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "You're okay . . ."

Sebastian let out a wheezy laugh, "No, I'm not . . ."

It hurt to hear him say those words. Day after day, year after year, no matter what he was going through, Sebastian would never admit to not being okay. He didn't want others to be worried about him if they didn't have to be. Hearing him say that he wasn't okay meant that he knew he was dying; that there was no way to help him.

"Claude . . ." He gasped out, "I want to . . . to ask you something."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Do you think . . . there really is a place we go when we die? Like Heaven, or Hell?"

Sebastian's question left me a little bewildered. He knew I wasn't religious and thought the concept was absolute nonsense. If I was completely honest, I would have said that there was nothing for us when we died. When we died, we died. Nothing happened. We are put into a box and buried in a hole and left to rot. But through the pain in his eyes, I knew that wasn't what Sebastian wanted to hear.

"Maybe," I said, "I'm sure if there is a place, it's a place for everyone. Maybe it isn't Heaven or Hell, but someplace where we can move on and continue living." I let out a slight chuckle, "but if there is a Hell, I have no doubt in my mind that that's where Hannah will be going."

The beating of wings outside of the open window caught my attention. Through the glow of a lit candle I could make out a massive black bird with a long beak and beady black eyes. The croaks it emitted sent a chill up my spine.

Sebastian extended an arm to the ghastly creature, "A . . . raven . . ."

I stood up to chase the bird away, but Sebastian stopped me.

"Don't Claude . . . He's okay . . ."

I shifted with unease. Ravens were bad omens.

While they could be omens of change, they were typically an omen of death. If one lingered outside of someone's home or window, it meant that person was about to die. Some would even say that the devil had come to collect.

While it might still be just a big black bird, I still believed the stories. There was something that I just didn't like about ravens. I was never fond of them and thought that it would be better if they would all die. But if the bird's company brought Sebastian some sort of comfort, then I'd let the beast stay.

"I didn't know you liked the company of ravens," I commented to Sebastian.

"I don't . . ." Sebastian replied, " I just . . . something about this raven . . . s-seems different somehow."

"Different? Different how?"

Somehow a smile managed to work its way across Sebastian's weakening expressions.

"He's like mother . . . and father . . . and William . . . and Angela . . . and . . ."

"And?"

". . . and grandfather . . . They are here . . . Claude . . . They're all here . . ."

I felt tears stream down my face as Sebastian's grip on my hand released and his arm went limp. His eyes slipped closed and his smile faded as the life left his body.

Moments later, I heard the raven open its massive wings and fly away into the darkness, carrying Sebastian's soul away with it.


	14. Chapter 13: Spitting Image

I don't know how long I was crying. The world just seemed to pass by me in a blur. The doctor came in and covered Sebastian's body with a large white sheet. He tried to say something to comfort me, but my mind didn't register it. A nurse eventually came in and escorted me back out into the hallway to calm down.

Eventually, I pulled myself together enough to be able to walk out of the doctor's office and back home. From the moment I walked through the doors of our small dilapidated shack, the atmosphere changed. It was no longer light and full of life, but heavy and full of gloom.

I looked to the dining room table, where not a week ago, Hannah, Sebastian, and I sat together enjoying each other's company. I glanced over to the kitchen. A plate of chicken that Sebastian had cooked earlier the day before still sat out on the counter. A glass of water still sat in the living room beside the chair where Sebastian would sit and read for several hours into the night. I walked down the empty, quiet hallway that led to our rooms, all three of them just as they had been left when we woke up that morning. Through his bed and writing desk, I could still imagine Sebastian's small, thin shape huddled in the middle of the floor; silent, terrified, and so utterly alone.

Was this what it was like when people in your home died? You look at everything they left behind, even if it was just their lunch or a glass of water, never once thinking they'd be abandoned within hours because the person would die. Every room and how they left it becomes a precious memory, one of the last you will ever have of that person before they are buried.

I couldn't take it. I ran out of the house, and went back into town. I didn't stop until I found myself Ash Landers' front door. He had to know, too. He probably had no clue that Sebastian had been shot not even an hour ago. And I really needed somebody to grieve with.

I knocked on the door and waited. I didn't even try to maintain my composure is Ash answered the door, his kind, gentle smile quickly vanishing from his face as he saw me.

"Claude? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

I wanted to break it to him in a gentle way. Ash was brilliant at it, saying how the people that passed would return home to our Father in Heaven and that they were happy and now at peace. I didn't do that. My mind it didn't have the strength to do that anymore, so I just said it how it was.

"Sebastian is dead."

Sorrow spread across Ash's features. It almost looked as if he were melting away into the same despair that I felt.

"What?" Was the first thing he uttered, trying to grasp the sudden news, "but . . . How? When? I saw him earlier today, and . . ."

"Hannah shot him," I explained, "the doctor said that there was nothing he could do."

There were a lot of questions, a lot of whys and hows. Ash and I spend the whole night trying to comfort each other, though neither of us really felt any better by the time morning came.

"Can I ask you something?" Ash finally piped up, once he had stopped crying, "do you think the rumors about Sebastian were true?"

That was the last thing I wanted to talk about.

"Sebastian was a good man," I stated, "he was the farthest thing from a monster that I've ever known. I don't care what people say about him. I knew what kind of person he was, you knew what kind of person he was, Angela new what kind of person he was. That's all that matters to me, that's the way I'd like to remember him."

Ash smiled, "Good, then I'm sure Sebastian and Angela are happy to have been reunited within Heaven's gates."

Hannah was hung later that morning, and I kept my promise and skipped her execution. As far as I know, nobody claimed her body, not even her own family, who had disowned her for the crimes she had committed. Rather than worry about that traitorous wench, I spent my time at the undertaker's parlor, staying with Sebastian.

Over the course of the day, the undertaker had managed to fit Sebastian and a nice coffin and clean him up. I was personally amazed, considering the mess the bullet wound had made. He looked almost like he was sleeping. He looked peaceful, and that's all I wanted for him now. I didn't want him to suffer anymore.

"Quite a shame it is," the undertaker piped up, "that young man had to be the nicest fella I'd ever met."

"I know," I replied, "Sebastian was a good man. He definitely didn't deserve to die the way he did. At least he's in a better place."

The undertaker let out a mischievous chuckle, "Are you sure about that?"

I shot the old loon and questioning look, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know there are rumors, right? That your brother was the one that killed your parents all those years ago."

I let out and irritated sigh, "You have no idea how many times I've gone in circles with people over that rumor. It would have been impossible for Sebastian to have killed them. He was so weak at the time that even if he managed to kill my mother or my father, the other would strike him down before he even had a chance. He couldn't have killed them!"

"Hmph! Well if you're so certain, then."

"In any event, I have a question for you too, undertaker."

"And what's that?"

I sat down beside him, snatching a biscuit from a jar he had sitting out.

"What can you tell me about my Grandpa Raven? What was he like?"

The undertaker looked interested, "Why do you ask?"

"You brought him up when our parents died, then Sebastian said something about him before dying, as well. What kind of man was he?"

The undertaker leaned against a nearby coffin and cracked a small grin.

"The Red-eyed Raven was a monster," he said nonchalantly , "he was a good man when he wanted to be, but deep down he was a real beast. He wasn't afraid to kill, if it came down to it, and he had a signature way of doing it, too."

A chill ran through me. Had he been anyone else I would have choked him, but the undertaker has handled the corpse of every person to die in our tiny village. He knew about who killed who just as well as the killer themselves.

"How did he do it?" I had the nerve to ask.

The Undertaker laughed, "Raven had a nasty habit of plucking the eyes out of his victims. Didn't take long for the police to catch on."

"And what happened to him?"

"What do you think?"

Hung. My grandfather was a killer. No wonder people had it out for Sebastian; the spitting image of my grandfather Raven. But did that really make Sebastian's a bad person?

"Raven Smith was probably the nicest guy I've ever met, it's true," the undertaker finished, "he had a heart of gold and he gave me business. All I could ever ask for out of someone. Probably won't get another bloke like that in my lifetime."

The undertaker may have been crazy, but he had me thinking. If Raven was a person with a heart of gold, but still a ruthless killer, does that mean Sebastian was capable of doing the same thing. Could he have really killed our parents? And if so, how did he do it? And were there others?


	15. Chapter 14: Judgment

I'll spare you all and not go over every last detail of my life from there. All you need to know about the rest of my life is that things never got better for me. William's death had hit me hard, but after Sebastian died I wound up falling into a deep, endless depression that I never completely came out of.

I lived long enough to see the loved ones around me die. First my parents, then William, then Sebastian, and then Hannah and our unborn child. Even Ash perished a few years before me. A terrible illness broke out in the village, and both Ash and I caught it. I survived. Ash did not, but he was a pious man until the very end, and I suppose it came as no surprise that that path led him to where it did.

As for myself, each time these hardships fell on me, each time I stared death in the face and was spared, I had to wonder why. Why did others have to die while I lived? They weren't weaker than me, their lives weren't less valuable than mine, and we were facing these hardships together. So why? Why did others die whilst I lived?

I began spiraling down a dangerous path. I drank until my mind was gone and let the alcohol live my life for me. I would steal money for bourbon and drink it until it made me sick. My depression made me moody and violent. I'd get into fights at the local bar and wake up in an alley somewhere around midnight with blood on my hands and lying next to a dead body. The alcohol had helped me cope with the loss of my brothers, and I grew to love death.

Homicide became a personal hobby. My usual weapon of choice was a short knife and I enjoyed slashing people's throats. But every great once in a while I'd throw someone off the top of a very high building, or I'd shoot them in the stomach, and I just let the nostalgia wash over me . . . then I'd drink some more.

The lifestyle caught up with me in a hurry, though. I lost my job before I started killing, and petty theft only got me so far with my horrible drinking problem. And when I started killing people, well when you live in a small town, word gets around. Before long, I was on the run from the police, and I knew then that I would have to leave the village, or I'd risk meeting the same fate as Hannah.

I finally met my maker in a bar in France. I was stupid drunk and messing with some frog's hot date. The fellow tried being nice, which I found funny at the time. It escalated into yelling, and then a fist fight. Then I made the stupid mistake of pulling my knife, at which point the frenchman pulled a pistol. I heard a loud pop and in the second before I died, something tapped my skull and I had a headache for a moment before everything went black.

If you've ever wondered what it was like to be shot in the head, that's what it feels like; pop, tap, headache, dark. It's relatively painless.

They say when you die, you're supposed to see a bright light. Yeah, that didn't happen.

I came around to the sound of someone calling out to me and tapping my shoulder. When I opened my eyes I was greeted to the sight of Ash smiling down at me. He was wearing a white suit that looked partially made out of silk and partially made out of doilies.

"Well, well, my friend," he said, "looks like you've gotten yourself into quite the fix."

I knew one thing for damn certain: I wasn't drunk, nor was I dreaming. I was dead, and this was my judgment day. How did I know this? Ash Landers was alive, standing before me with a smile on his face . . . and a very large set of dove-like wings on his back.

"Where am I exactly?" I asked.

"Well, nowhere really," Ash replied, "this is where people are judged after they die. I'm just here to guide you along. Please follow me."

I had this feeling of dread. I could tell somehow that this wasn't going to end well for me. Well, I knew that much already. I never counted on there being an actual Heaven or Hell, or a judgment we all had to go through. I just thought when we died, then that was it. We were gone from the world and left to rot wherever our bodies were placed. Heaven and Hell were nice thoughts for love ones, or people that we hated with an intense passion, but the concept was so far-fetched that it just couldn't be real. Well, I was wrong.

Ash and I walked together until we stood before a large cross. There were words written across it, but the language it was in was something I didn't understand. At about the level of my chest was a handprint. The right hand. It was pretty self-explanatory on what I had to do.

I stepped up to the cross and placed my hand against the handprint. The metal was cool and melted against my skin like water. The inscriptions on the cross glowed a bright white, and I was struck with awe.

"What's it doing?" I asked Ash.

"God is reading your Cinematic Record," Ash explained, "He is finalizing his decision on where you're going to be placed based on your sins."

The center of the cross burned a bright orange color.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked.

Ash shook his head, "You might want to get ready. This is going to hurt."

No sooner did he say that, a white hot pain crept up my right arm, then my left, then down my left leg, then my right. There was a burning sensation going across my back, ribs, and finally my throat. The pain was so horrible, I began screaming and crying.

When it was finally over, I was on my knees, choking on blood and tears.

"Alright! Let's see them, then!"

I looked over to Ash, who had the most disappointed look on his face.

"See . . . what?" I asked him.

"Your sins, you idiot!" Ash hissed, "I mean, I knew it was going to be bad, but I didn't think it was that bad. Really? Seven sins? Lucifer is going to have a field day with you!"

Across my right arm, the word 'Gluttony' was carved deep into my flesh. Across my left was 'Greed'. 'Betrayal' and 'Hatred' were carved into my legs. 'Deception' was carved into my back, the word 'Wrath' had been burned into my ribs, and finally, the sin that caused the least amount of pain was 'Lust' which had been scratched just above my Adams apple.

"Well, that's that, then," Ash finally said, "Time to get going."

"Going? Going where?"

Ash hesitated. He let out a disappointed sigh before kneeling down beside me.

"Listen, Claude. Back on earth, when we were alive, I liked you. You seemed like a wonderful person; a great friend and a devoted brother. I know everyone has some skeletons hidden in their closets, but seven sins, three of which are deadly sins? I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it's out of my hands now. You are the property of Satan Lucifer now. Both you and your brother."

For a moment, I forgot about the pain I was in, and my thoughts were spoken aloud.

"Sebastian . . . is in Hell?"

Ash nodded, "Let's just say he isn't the man we all thought he was. Angela still seems to love him regardless, but all of this can wait until later. Right now, we have to go, or the Lord's patrol of archangels will run you out."


	16. Chapter 15: Hell's Gates

The walk to Hell's gates was long. Ash didn't have to say it. I knew. The sins engraved on my body that burned with each step I took spoke volumes of the punishment that awaited me. But I wasn't worried about that. The only thing I was worried about was Sebastian.

He had to have taken the same long walk, endured the same painful judgement, all with Angela by his side to guide him. I couldn't help but wonder what sins were engraved in his flesh. How many did he have? What had he done that was so bad that he was denied entrance into Heaven?

"You said Sebastian wasn't the man we all thought he was," I said to Ash, "If that's the case, then tell me what he was keeping from us."

"I can't tell you what he did specifically," Ash replied, "All Angela told me was that it was horrific, and that a lot of his sins could be traced back to when he was still being abused at home."

A wave of guilt washed over me as I thought about those days. Now I understood why 'Deception' and 'Betrayal' were the sins that were causing me the most pain. I had lied about protecting him back in those days and loving him like a brother; that was the promise I had made him the day he was born. But I did nothing to stop the beatings our parents dealt out to him. Hell, I couldn't even find it in myself to stand up to William when it was just him that was doing it. I probably joined in on most of those beatings, as a matter of fact. Whatever feelings Sebastian harbored towards that, whatever sins had surfaced because of it, it was all because of me.

"Do you know what sins Sebastian was marked with?" I asked.

A troubled look crossed Ash's face.

"He had seven, as well," he stated, "Three deadly sins, two unforgivable sins, Hatred, and . . ."

". . . And?"

"Well, remember how everyone thought Sebastian was the one that killed your parents for a while, but you thought that was impossible to do by himself?"

"Yes."

"I've figured out what happened, but I don't think it's my place to tell you all about that. All I can tell you is that Sebastian's seventh sin isn't in a word. It's a symbol."

I cocked a curious brow, "What kind of symbol?"

"A pentagram. Claude, whatever Sebastian did in the previous life, the devil was behind it. Not only does that make him a sinner, it makes him dangerous. More so now than ever."

I didn't want to believe it. Sebastian may not have been religious, but I knew he would never go so far as to try to call upon the devil for anything. But, if what Ash was saying was true, if I did wind up seeing Sebastian again and see that symbol carved into his flesh, then I'd have to believe it.

A few minutes passed before Ash and I came to a pair of doors. One was large and made out of wood, the other was an iron gate with scorch marks, blood, and rust on it.

"Both doors lead to the same place," Ash stated, "But one path offers a slightly better fate than the other. You'll be given a second judgement by Lucifer, and then he'll decide where you'll go from there; either into the Lake of Fire, or by his side to use as one of his pawns. Consider this your last chance to save yourself."

I looked from one door to the other then back to Ash, "How do I know which one is the right choice?"

Ash shrugged, "Choose the one you like more, I suppose."

Useless. That's what I found myself thinking; about Ash, about finding Sebastian, about my own fate . . . everything was useless! No matter what I decided to do, no matter which path I chose from here, it would never be the same as when all of us were alive.

I stepped away from Ash and looked from one gate to the other. The wooden gate looked pretty promising, but what was really lying behind it? The iron gate looked pretty intimidating, but aside from being covered in ash and blood, it gave no hints towards leading me to a torturous fate. But then I recalled what Ash had said: both gates led to the same place, but depending on which one I personally chose, I could either become a pawn or a prisoner.

And then I thought about who I was about to face. Satan, Lucifer, the devil. I thought about how he would have this choice set up. My guess was that he would want people to choose whichever option they thought would offer a less torturous eternity and go with the opposite choice as the "right" answer. But what if that was just what Satan wanted people to think and the safest looking option was really the right option?

Then my mind went back to what Ash had said about Sebastian. He was Satan's property now. He had gone through this before, and the way Ash made it sound he had become one of Satan's "pawns". My brother had made the "right" choice, and I knew with his self-destructive state of mind, he would have gone with the option that looked like it would offer him the most brutal eternal punishment imaginable. He wouldn't have been concerned with saving himself.

Knowing that, I reached towards the iron gate.

"Are you sure?" Ash asked, "Is that really the right choice?"

"Why does it matter if it is or not?" I countered, "All I care about, all I know, is that wherever this gate takes me, it'll eventually take me to Sebastian; maybe even to William and my parents."

"If you're sure, then. I must be going now."

I waited just a moment longer, listening to Ash's footsteps fade away, before pushing the gate open.

The world beyond the gate was dark and congested, almost as if I were in a cave of some sort. The air was thick and heavy with dread and despair, and it didn't take long before the path I had chosen led to a dead end; a prison cell.

The orange glow of a burning torch gave me enough light to see. Several other people sat in this cell, tucked away in a corner shaking with fear. They came from all walks of life. One was a man from what would be known later as Germany, another from Russia, and the others came from a wide variety of unknown places. But we all shared one thing in common. We were here, scared and uncertain if the final choice we were allowed to make had been the right one.


	17. Chapter 16: Sins

The demons plucked us off one by one, pulling us out of our cell in chains and shackles. By the time it was my turn to be judged, I was the only one left. At this point, I had heard so much begging and pleading, listened to so much torture going on around me that a reunion with any sort of family was the furthest thing from my mind. My only hope was that I would see a leaner sentence than those that befell my cellmates, even if it was only slight.

I don't know how much time passed. Down there, there is no sun to keep track of the days or a clock to countdown hours, minutes, or seconds. Eventually, though, I heard a pair of footsteps approach and the rattling of chains, and I knew then that it was my turn to be judged.

It was at about this time that I began to wonder just how many demons were in Hell. Each one that had come to fetch a prisoner was different, unlike on earth where you could expect the same set of guards to come and fetch you. And they weren't entirely what I would say looked like demons, with horns and tails, goat faces, or the visage of a goblin. No they were more humanlike in appearance, only more unkempt. The clothing they wore was all very revealing, exposing the sins branded on their bodies. Some had wings, others had extra limbs, and some even looked to be part animal, with hooves, claws, fur, or paws. One thing was certain, though, they were all different; no two beings looked entirely the same.

The demon that fetched me was tall. He was thin, but had a fair amount of muscle. He had the feet, talons, wings, and even the soulless black eyes of a raven. His hair flowed in a pitch black wave down his back and he had numerous cowlicks that swept outwards. He had a slender face and pale skin, but the one thing that disturbed me the most about him was that he looked too much like Sebastian, yet somehow it wasn't him.

"It's time for your judgement," he said flatly, "please follow me."

He led the way through several narrow tunnels before we walked into a massive cavern. There were many demons seated on the edges of the ledges and on top of boulders. Before me in a great throne was a demon with large batlike wings. His hair was long and golden, reaching all the way below his arms. His eyes were a cold shade of blue and his facial expressions sat somewhere between disappointed and disgusted.

So this was him, huh? The Antichrist. The most evil being on this planet. A man with such a relatively tame appearance was the being known as Satan?

"Why are you standing so far away?" he asked me, his voice calm but bitter in nature, "come closer."

I nodded and took a few hesitant steps forward. The air got impossibly heavier as I felt the eyes of every demon in the room fix onto me.

"Claude Smith, do you know why you stand here before my throne today?"

Because I was a sinner? Because I betrayed my family and wound up a criminal? There were seven sins engraved on my body, therefore a minimum of seven reasons why I was here.

"I think the brands speak for themselves," I replied.

A chuckle rolled out of Satan's throat, "Indeed, they do."

The raven-looking demon approached him and handed him a thick, decorative book.

"I honestly don't know what happened," Satan continued, "Your life spiraled downhill so fast that even I almost missed it! I was shaken for days! I'll spare you and summarize this the best I can."

The next what I belive to be five minutes or so were spent going over my life, where I came from, who I was related to, who was involved with me, what I had done, and how I died. Like I needed to be remeinded about any of that.

My sins and how they were assigned to me were also gone over in great detail. Lust was my least severe sin, thus why it had only been scratched into my skin. I was told that if I had never approached that woman in France, not only would I still be alive, albeit a criminal still on the run, but I'd also have one less sin to repent for. Wrath was also one of my least sever sins, but it coincided with Hatred for leaving my pregnant wife for dead in the prison cells. Greed was higher up on the list for engaging in petty theft and killing for selfish reasons. I guess you could say I saw Deception and Betrayal coming; lying to my brother about protecting him and then making things worse by beating him. I should have been born with those sins etched into my skin. Gluttonly was considered my core sin; the sin that all the others had stemmed off of. Drinking until my mind was gone led me to kill, it made me hateful, and it gave me the nerve to approach another man's woman. The reason my life went all to hell, the reason I was here, was because I was a glutton.

"You had a good head on your shoulders for the longest time," Satan stated, "Had you continued on that path, even if you were an atheist, God would have let you into his kingdom without hesitation. Then your brother died. Sebastian, wasn't it? Apparently he was the glue that bound you to the Lord's good graces. How sad . . . or rather, how pathetic!"

"What do you mean?" I asked, "He was family. How could I have not . . ."

"Then what about your other brother, William? According to your Cinamatic Record, you seemed to favor him less than Sebastian. And what about your parents, the ones that are to blame for your existance? The only time you seemed to acknowledge them was whenever Sebastian would have one of his little fits over them. Hell, even now youre so wrapped up in trying to find him that you've failed to realize you're in the presence of your own grandfather!"

A slight gasp escaped me as I glanced back over to the raven-looking demon. The one that had drug me out of my cell, the one man that looked exactly like Sebastian, it wasn't him. It was my grandfather, Raven Smith; the Red-Eyed Raven. I began to inwardly curse at myself.

"All familial issues asside," Satan said, "There's one more question that I'm required to ask you. When you stood before the two gates, why did you choose the iron one?"

I let out a sigh of shame.

"It's like you said about Sebastian. When I was told he'd be down here, I placed myself in his shoes, thinking about which fate he would have chosen for himself."

"I see. And you believe he chose the iron gate. Why?"

"Because Sebastian was always on the brink of self-destructing. I can only imagine if he knew he was going to Hell, he'd choose the option that offered the greater punishment. He's a bit of a masochist like that."

"Those are some strong words, young man . . . but you were right in your thinking that."

I felt my heart drop. Sebastian was here!

"Unfortunately, if you were hoping that gate would bring you the tortures of Hell like your brother did, I'm afraid you're mistaken. The angels have taken a toll on the number of demons serving me these past few centuries. This is just my way of recruiting more. Your grandfather and brother have both chosen this fate, and now it's your turn."

Satan stared at me for a good long time, pondering about what kind of demon I should be. Anticipation began to grow in the air, adding to its heaviness.

The powerful demon let out a hum, "The way your sins ensnared you so suddenly, it's almost like a spider's web. How things changed for you so quickly; it was like day turning into night, sweet sugar into salt, those bitter-sweet lies into truth. Yes, I believe you'll make a fine spider demon, Claude."

I felt so defeated by how true those words were.

Day into night, sugar into salt, lies into truth. That's all I'd ever been made of , and it'd be all I'd ever be.


	18. Chapter 17: The Side Nobody Saw

Figuring out Sebastian had been sent to Hell was one thing, actually finding him was another. By the time my judgment had been completed, there was nothing to my name but the sins I had been branded with. I went from being known as "Claude" to going by Faustus, a name Satan assigned to me personally. He'd done the same to Sebastian, who was apparently going by the name Michaelis. So that's where I started my search, by asking other demons if they bumped into another demon named Michaelis.

It didn't take long to pick up on his trail. Not by tracks or by scent, but by the number of gravely injured demons and humans that had been damned to Hell's pits. Heads bashed open, breast bones torn from the chest, femurs snapped in two; all of the individuals that had these sorts of injuries said they'd run into a demon named Michaelis.

I found myself wondering why Sebastian would choose to do something like this. He wouldn't hurt a fly, at least that's what I had always told myself. But the growing number of injured demons and spirits said otherwise. Bones broken, organs spilling out onto the ground, appendages removed, blood spilling from injuries caused by razor-sharp teeth and claws. And whenever I asked these people who had done this to them, they could only reply with one name: Michaelis.

It became evident that I wasn't dealing with "Sebastian" anymore.

A horrific shriek sounding from over a hill made me quicken my pace. It sounded familiar, nostalgic almost; taking me back to a time when our family wasn't torn apart. It was the voice that spoke after that that I became absolutely sure of who was being attacked.

"Sebastian, no! Stop it! It's me! Mother! It's your mother, Sebastian! Don't you recognize me?!"

A chill ran through me as I heard blows landing, flesh ripping, bones breaking. The person being attacked was undoubtedly my mother, and the person doing the attacking was definitely Sebastian.

I made it over the hill in time to watch it all play out. Sebastian had our mother pinned beneath him, both hands wrist-deep in her chest as the most horrific grin settled on his face. Both of my mother's legs bent at a number of unnatural angles, and her eyes had been torn out of their sockets. I felt the urge to vomit as I realize that she was missing an ear, and Sebastian was happily chewing on it.

"Sebastian!" I called out, "what are you doing?"

Sebastian's head slowly turned towards me, and his grin only grew, exposing a set of unnaturally sharp, jagged teeth.

"I-isn't this wonderful, Claude?" He said in a voice that trembled with delight, "Now I can kill them as many times as I want."

It was then that I allowed myself to take in my brother's appearance. A pair of raven-like wings were folded neatly across his back. His hair was long, messy, and matted with dirt, blood, and gore. He wore clothes that revealed his sins like the other demons, but these clothes were different. Fancier; evidence that he had to have had some sort of special status here. His sins were not only visible, they glowed like burning coals. Envy snaked up his left arm, Despair is right. Hatred was engraved in his right leg, Wrath his left. Blasphemy was burned across his chest, and Sloth was etched onto the side of his neck. And branded on his right hand was a pentagram. Everything Ash had said was true. I wasn't dealing with the Sebastiaan I remembered, and realizing that I became absolutely terrified.

"What's wrong, Claude?" Sebastian asked as he ripped his hands out of our mothers chest and stood, "aren't you happy to see me? It's been so long. How long has it been? Two centuries? Five centuries? A thousand?"

"Sebastian . . ." it was obvious that his mind was gone, and all I could do now was try and reason with him, "You've been dead for about three years now."

I watched as Sebastian's face fell and anguish flooded his features.

"Three . . . years? Three? Three?!"

In a swift motion, my brother broke off one of my mother's legs, causing her to scream in agony. The bone of the leg came to a jagged point, and I watched as Sebastian proceeded to repeatedly stab her in the stomach with it.

"Three! Three! Three! Three! Three! Only three years? That can't be! What does three stand for? Three hundred?"

He was in denial. Being down here had clearly eaten away his sanity. Being down in this place where no one could stop him from doing what he wanted on top of seeing our parents again; those circumstances were a recipe for vengeance. Now he was just letting his sins take over.

As for me, I let my reflexes take over as I jumped on him, pulling him off of our mother and to the bloodsoaked ground. I pinned him down as best I could as he flapped his wings and bucked beneath me. Eventually, though, he gave up his struggle and glanced up at me with a scowl.

"You may have only been dead for three years," I said to him, "but it felt like an eternity to me. You, mother, father, William, Hannah; without all of you in my life, it was hell! I was the oldest of the three of us! I should've been the one to die first, not you two!"

Sebastian sneered, "If you're trying to get me to feel all sentimental, you can forget it. William might not be here, but mother and father had it coming. And when I find William . . ." a psychotic grin spread across his face, "when I find William, I'm going to throw him into a river of lava! It's going to be great listening to his pathetic screams . . ."

"Stop it!" I hissed, striking him across the face, "You're talking about your own brother!"

"I don't care. He didn't seem to care when he'd beat me in the middle of the night. Or how about when he'd drag me out of bed and throw me into the river? What about turning the neighbor's dog loose on that poor kitty; the only real friend I had? What? Do you expect me to just forgive and forget? Because if you do, you're even more of a fool than I thought."

I was speechless, not by what he said, but because, the way he said it, he had a point. William had done nothing except hurt Sebastian his entire life. Even after our parents died, he still held a pretty neutral standpoint when he addressed him. It was never the type of connection that siblings were supposed to have.

I let out a sigh. There was one last thing that I needed to know, something that had been festering in my head for years.

"I have to know . . ." I said, "Did you really kill mother and father?"

"Yes," Sebastian replied, sounding almost as if he'd already been asked the question a million times now, "Do you want to know how I did it?"

I really didn't. He could reenact the whole thing right here, if he really wanted to, but it was also a question that I'd been needing the answer to for a long time.

"I followed mother and father out into the woods that morning," Sebastian started, "I took a knife with me. They went to the cleaning next to the river where they met Satan. They told him that they agreed with the terms of their contact; they were going to kill you, me, and William in exchange for vast wealth and immortality. But there was just one problem with that. Humans can't become immorals until they die. Satan tried explaining that to them, but they wouldn't listen. They didn't want to die. They wanted to live forever and ever without ever running the risk of dying. He was just going to take their souls and leave, but then he saw me."

"You?" I asked, "What did you have to do with anything?"

"I lot, actually. I was the only other human around he could offer a deal to; a child that had not only overheard the details of this deal, but also bore a grudge against the two selfish scumbags trying to become immoral. So he passed mother and father's wish over to me. And do you know what I wished for?"

I had a pretty good idea, but I still allowed him to finish.

"I wished for Satan to kill them, and to have fun doing it!"

I felt sick. Not only had Sebastian been the one to kill our parents, he sicked the devil on them as well. Everything anyone had ever said about him was true, and now, after seeing Sebastian mad with bloodlust as he had pinned our mother down beneath him, I had to believe it.

Suddenly, I began to feel extra weight being added to my back. In my peripheral vision, I saw four long limbs stretching out. My vision doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled. I felt my canines grow and curve inward and I was horrified to find that they could move individually. A bitter taste filled my mouth as something leaked out of the newly formed fangs, and when I spit it out onto the ground, it came out clear with a sour smell and I knew it was venom.

A shocked expression settled on Sebastian's face.

"S-spider demon . . ." He muttered, then he let out a snarl before bucking me off of him and swatting at me with a wing, "you're a spider demon! Your sins live up to it, though. You're just as bad as an insect!"

That was the last thing he said to me before disappearing into the darkness.

I felt a lot of things in that moment; anger, hate, sadness, hopelessness. I knew what it was, though. This may not have been the Sebastian I remembered, but that was because that Sebastian died three years ago. This Sebastian had been living inside that Sebastian all that time, he just never showed it. It was then that my mind decided that I hated this Sebastian. He wasn't my brother or even my friend anymore. He was just another demon. A rival. Competition.

It was then that we parted ways as brothers.


	19. Epilogue

So tell me, how tragic was your past?

Don't pity me. My life and my mistakes were all my doing, so I bear that burden and responsibility. But watching one of the people that I cared for most deteriorate to such a state took me by surprise. Nobody would have ever guessed just how much hatred Sebastan bore towards the world and the people in it.

There are times when I think if I had chosen to do something different, how would have the butterfly effect worked in our favor? But it's usually just a passing thought. I know that so long as Sebastian had been born, the outcome would have likely stayed the same.

I still see Sebastian lurking around the bowels of Hell from time to time. We get along a little bit better, especially after he was allowed to run a demon sword through me. He's grown out of brutally torturing others in our realm, but he's going through a phase where he always wants to be alone, perhaps to reflect on some of the things he's done over these past few centuries.

Our relationship with our parents remains the same though. While I am willing to speak with them, Sebastian will offer a decapitation as a greeting and and eviscerating as a farewell. As for William, our relationship has been sort of strained, as he's a full grim reaper and we're lowly demons. Turns out he still really hates Sebastian, though, and while he might have loved working overtime as a human, he despises overtime now. I can't say that I blame him.

I have reunited with Hannah, as well as our children. I was surprised to find that her pregnancy followed her to Hell. That wasn't the only thing that surprised me. Do note that I said children; three rather tame sons that were named Thompson, Timber, and Canterbury. Since they were born in Hell, they were born demons and without a single sin to mark them, as well. Hannah herself went several centuries without wanting to see or talk to me, but after our time at the Trancy manor we have finally managed to patch things up and come together as a family.

Take this as a word of advice. The relationships you have with your family - your mother, your father, your sister or brother, your husband or wife, and your children – mean so much. You'll never know what they're going through entirely, and in the next life it might be too late to make amends.

Love your family, hold them close, and never take a single breath you take for granted. Because you never know which day you wake up to or if the next breath you take will be your last.


End file.
